


Blood and Stone

by MedeaV



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Blood and Violence, F/M, Going for dark and gritty here, I only write AUs now don't ask, Late 90s, Set in Prague because I love it, Shameless Smut, Suicide mentions, Vampire Hunters, Vampire Sex, Vampire outbreak in Russia 1993, Vampires, set in 1999
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:55:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 26
Words: 85,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25707781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MedeaV/pseuds/MedeaV
Summary: She's good. Really good. She's done this longer than almost anyone else and no one tracks vampires down better than her. That's the only thing that matters. Hunt and kill.He has white eyes and a black cloak. He's either an impostor or, judging by the color of his eyes, the most dangerous vampire she's ever met. And he's not going to leave her alone.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Natasha Romanov
Comments: 128
Kudos: 78





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Defending the Shadows](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4957156) by [Eustacia Vye (eustaciavye)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/eustaciavye/pseuds/Eustacia%20Vye). 



> Reading Eustacia Vye's "Defending the Shadows", I just had to write vampire hunters and now it's getting longer and longer. Just so you know who to blame.
> 
> Title from the eponymous song by Audiomachine, which would have made a great Black Widow trailer song. Just saying.

She's good. Really good. That's why Fury turns a blind eye (haha) when she sometimes sneaks out alone into the night. She's got senses. She's done this longer than almost anyone else and she can just _tell._ No one tracks vampires down better than her, so why would she let herself be slowed down.

Tonight, she is after two young breeds. She caught their trail somewhere around Anděl, followed it up the Petřín, lost it, picked it up again in Holešovice and traced it to the other side of the Vltava, a basement in Karlín. They're inexperienced, alone, reckless, hungry, and she's going to wipe them out before they can get their shit together. This ends tonight.

She needs to be careful, though, because young vampires actually have a keener sense of smell, coming with the insatiable hunger. There's no moon out tonight, which puts her slightly at a disadvantage. Still. Not waiting for backup. Not when she's got them right here.

She's prepared. She smells like mud, smeared her face with it, her neck under the bite guard, her wrists and hands. She stinks. She's armed, knives and guns strapped to her thighs, her back, inside her sleeves. She breathes deeply.

One of them is wailing inside, inhuman noises. It's been forever since she felt empathy for that kind of thing. Yes, it's painful, turning into a monster, but they're still monsters. She'll gladly put them out of their misery. So they won't rip more people with them and create more wailing families, actual wailing people. Not this scum.

The heavy wooden door is barred, so she'll have to slip through the shaft. There are scratching marks on the wood. They really don't know how to be careful. They'll pay for that. She smells blood, probably their own. Whoever turned them just abandoned them, and now they're easy prey.

She breathes deeply again, pressing the handle of her silver blade into her palm. The anticipatory adrenaline rushes through her. Now. She's ready.

She rips out the grid and jumps down the shaft, not caring about the noise. It's a little brighter inside, old broken furniture strewn around, bicycles, canisters. It smells of oil. One of the vampire fledglings jumps up, hissing, baring her bloody fangs. Young vampires sometimes feed on each other, as long as there is still human blood inside their veins. They're strong until they burn through it. Natasha grins, baring her own teeth, flashing the silver knife. The vampiress jumps onto her and she rolls out underneath her, slashing at her calf. The monster howls. The other vampire, barely more than a boy, cowers. Natasha lets the knife cut through the air, in his direction. The vampiress lunges at her again and she's strong, fast, but clumsy. Natasha kicks her in the chest so she crashes into a couple of flimsy bikes. The other vampire prowls towards her and Natasha spins to sink the knife into his shoulder, eliciting a whimpering growl. The vampiress crawls up again, blood around her mouth, eyes fresh red. Natasha elbows the other in the face, knocking out one of his fangs, then tangles with the first. She's strong, high on blood as she'll never be again, sinking her claws into Natasha's forearms. The armour holds, though it cracks, and Natasha knees her in the stomach, breaking her down, and she swings back to trade blows with the other until she slices his neck, shallow, she'll have to do that again later. Finish the job. Wait. Her hair stands.

She's knocked forward all at once, crashing into a solid wooden table, knocking the air out of her. Stars. Shakes her head to clear it. Vision blurry. The third vampire, tall, male, stalks towards her, sneering. This is bad. Something trickles down her forehead.

She rolls away before he slams the table to pieces, rolls away again before he kicks her, but then there's no more room, she scrambles upright, knife knocked out of her hand, barely dodging the claws of the vampiress, then he grabs her and flings her across the room like a dirty sheet, she hits the concrete wall groaning, now she's really dizzy, get up, get up-

There's a subtle _woosh_ and then it's quiet all of a sudden. She preens her eyes open, ready to throw up. Black. Black cloak. She's only heard of those, never seen one before.

There's a _thump_ as the now dry vampire hits the floor, pale, crumpled up. She crawls back in disgust. And fear. Hits the wall immediately. The vampiress is beheaded, body twisted unnaturally, and the boy's slit throat bleeds into a puddle. The black cloak turns. His eyes are _white._ Their eyes turn black once they've burned through their own blood but with every full moon they see, they become lighter. He must be _old,_ just a sliver of grey left. Old and powerful. She tries to crawl back farther into the wall. No one survives seeing a black cloak. Hardly anyone.

The white eyes study her, stepping over the dry one's arm. This cellar is too fucking small. He's not armed, other than claws and fangs, and he moves excruciatingly slowly. Dressed in all black, like the freaks around the castle she wouldn't approach over her dead body. Even they do not dare to don the black cloak. He's either an impostor or, judging by the color of his eyes, the most dangerous vampire she's ever met. He stops. "I know who you are."

The silver throwing star slips from her hand easily and he dodges just as easily, swiftly, she hardly sees him moving, just hears the cloak cut through the air. He straightens with annoyance, brushing dark hair out of his forehead. She bares her teeth at him, hissing, snarling. He mirrors her, automatically, presenting the longest fangs she's ever seen, streaked with gold. Yes, he's old, decades old. Maybe even a century. "I don't care who you are," she returns, even though she is burning to know.

He seems very annoyed with her. The hair on the back of her neck doesn't like it, any of it. "You're not difficult to find. The mud won't cover the smell of your blood."

Not for a vampire his age, no. "What do you want," she spits out, not really a question. Just bite her already, get it over with.

"There is something that-" He dodges the next throwing star as well, swooshing cloak. "You know what, under vampires, that is just considered rude."

"Under humans as well," she returns. Nobody ever considered her polite. And she's done caring. Now that she's going to die anyways.

"Would you let me finish," he demands. "I'm not going to kill you. Or you would be dead already."

Fucking liar. She's heard about that. Old vampires like to play with their fickle human prey. She brandishes her teeth again and he can't help but do the same. The black coat has golden patterns stitched into it. Would be considered nobility, under any other circumstances. "Go on. Please."

She pushes herself up while he is momentarily distracted with a car going by outside. Reckless, at this time. She leans against the wall, still dizzy. Ready to throw up. The smell of blood and death doesn't help. Oh wait, now's her chance to-

He knocks her against the wall roughly, gun clattering on the floor. Oh, now he's angry. He doesn't smell dead, sort of like an old book. His eyes look less white from close up. "Seriously," he hisses, though no breath hits her. His fingers are tight and cold as stone. "I'm not going to kill you. Get that into your-"

The silver slashes through his forearm, barely missing the bone, and he groans, recoiling, flesh turning gray, she doesn't bother kicking him and runs. If he were human, he might just have bled out from that. The door's only held shut by a broom stuck through the door handles, easily discarded, and then she _runs_ , the hair on the back of her neck not going down until she reaches the hunters' stronghold.

* * *

"Are you fucking _serious_ ," Fury hisses at her, even though she's barely dressed. "Alone? Again?"

Bruce studies the bruises on her arms, not saying a word. She can tell he agrees, though. "It was just two," she returns feistily. "Well, three. I could have _handled_ three."

"Is it so fucking hard to ask for help," Fury curses. "Would it cost you an arm and a leg or what? Ruin your cold, heartless persona?"

Bruce folds the scalpel kit and pulls the blanket over her. Like she's not going to get up and dress. "She's right. Not even a scratch. Plenty of bruises, though."

"You're the luckiest bastard I know, Romanoff," Fury snaps. "Are you sure it was a black cloak?"

"His eyes were almost white," she repeats, pulling a clean jacket on. "You think I'm making things up?"

"And he just let you run away," Fury remarks sourly. "On foot. You do know they can basically _fly_."

"That's just a stupid rumor." Natasha waves him off. "I've never seen a vampire _fly._ "

"I have," Fury returns dryly. "Believe me. A black cloak would've never let you get away."

"I cut his artery," Natasha repeats, slipping off the table. "Guess that slowed him down enough. Stop doubting me, I have no reason to lie to you."

Fury does not look convinced. "And he was looking specifically for you."

"I guess," Natasha agrees, tugging her pants up. "Claimed he knew who I am." She leaves out the rest. No need to tell them those lies.

"So you have a black cloak on your trail," Clint remarks, quietly leaning in the doorframe. "Guess you're not going out anytime soon."

" _If_ there's really a vampire like that in Prague," Fury interrupts. "We're all as good as dead. I don't care about your bloody arteries."

"Well, good," Natasha agrees, even though she doesn't. "Then I can sleep till sundown and go on another round, yes?"

* * *

"Are you sure you're okay?" Pepper asks. "I can cover for you, if you want. Haven't paid you back for last time."

It's very invasive but matter of fact is, going out when you're on your period is a risk and they have to plan around that. Just like when you have a small cut or a recent nosebleed or anything. Can't risk vampires smelling that and going berserk. And rather than informing Fury about their exact menstrual cycles, they rather just switch the shifts around. "It's fine. I'm fine."

"Really?" Pepper repeats unconvinced, tightening her ponytail. "Bruce said you crashed into a bunch of things. It's okay to just take a break."

"I don't need a break," Natasha returns, fastening the thigh holster. "You can pay me back another time. Go see whether you can detach Tony from his project instead."

A faint smile enters Pepper's face, automatically. "Probably not, but I'll go try. But really, if you need anything, just a word."

"I don't need anything," Natasha replies, putting the magazine in. "But thanks."

* * *

"You're not taking this seriously, are you," Clint remarks.

"If I did," Natasha returns, giving up stepping lightly. "What would I do? Hole up inside the tower? How's that going to save anybody?"

"You don't have black cloaks in Russia, do you," Clint asks. Natasha shakes her head unwillingly. "They're not just strong vampires. They were turned by Schmidt himself during the first Uprising. Lots of them were killed but some went into hiding with him. They're fiercely loyal and only listen to him. Every other vampire who dares wear a black cloak is brutally slain."

"Yeah, yeah, the famous superspreader." Natasha scoffs. "But I thought he's somewhere West. Why would he send a black cloak _here_?"

"They're enforcers," Clint explains. "Take out hunter cells that get too annoying. Or clean up unallowed newborns. You know, there's long been rumors those crazyheads over in the castle swore allegiance to Schmidt."

"So we could all die," Natasha repeats. "Is what you're saying."

Clints grins. "Eh, life's dangerous. Stop, I think I hear something."

Something turns out to be a stray cat, jumping on a trash can, almost giving them a heart attack. It hisses at them. Clint gives it the finger, though that doesn't appear to impress the shoddy beast. "Where were we. Oh, yeah, there's all sorts of rumors, that they have special powers and all that. Of course, nobody knows what's actually true because no one-"

"Quiet," Natasha whispers. "It smells, doesn't it?"

Clint tries, over the trash can. Natasha slips past, peeking onto the next street. Deadly quiet. She smells blood, vampire blood. Must have passed from the other side of the river again. She unlocks her gun, holding it close to her chest as she proceeds over the street. All her senses tell her they're here. Clint's close on her heels.

Probably infighting. Those baby vampires never manage to form significant groups without killing each other. Not that she minds. Makes things easier for her. She breathes in through her nose and follows the scent to a backyard.

Corpses. Impaled. That's not infighting, that's an execution. She shudders staring at the bloody wood peaking out of their chests. Five. Five of them, though two of the bodies are ripped in half, strewn across the yard carelessly. A shitton of dark blood. Pretty fresh. "Tasha," Clint remarks quietly.

She looks up from the carnage, taking a second before she spots the dark figure towering high on the roof. The cloak still sends a shiver down her spine. He's staring down at them and they're helplessly cornered in this backyard. Then he drops off the roof, _swoosh_ , like the wind, and then he's _gone._

"Well," Clint remarks, shuddering visibly. "He certainly was _wearing_ a black cloak."

"Shut up," Natasha mutters. "Let's get back to the tower before he realizes he doesn't have to run from us."

* * *

Fury goes full tower defense mode, putting up more traps, more alarms, increasing the guards on each shift, constantly accounting for everyone and not letting a pin drop without his knowing. She can tell, though, that he doesn't really believe in it. She's heard rumors that he lost a whole hunting cell to a black cloak, himself escaping only with one eye, the lone survivor. She's not sure it's true, though. And how are a couple of booby traps going to prevent this from happening to them, too?

She hates being controlled like that. Free spirit, as Alexei used to say. Just because she couldn't stand being around him after some of the stuff he did. She has her red lines, too, though not everyone believes that. So, she drops out one night, just slipping through the window down the grey stones of the powder tower, and then she's gone.

Prague's always quiet at night, as every vampire-infested city, but tonight it's especially quiet. She wonders how many people have heard of the black cloak in town, how far the rumors have spread. There's not a single open window as she strolls through the Old Town, no noises coming from inside. She feels weirdly at ease. At least she's pretty sure there are no more baby vampires in the old districts. The Malá Strana is, of course, a totally different business.

"Reckless," the awful voice remarks. "Going for a walk alone at night."

She looks up and she could've sworn he wasn't standing next to the Astrological Clock just seconds before, but now he is. "You do know those are the Twelve Apostles right next to you."

His white eyes make it very hard to read his expression. As if that monster's expressions mattered. "You do know that sort of thing has no effect," he returns calmly.

She breathes out with annoyance. "Are you stalking me?"

"Yes," he replies. "Pretty easy, as I said, you're the-" It looks like he knocks her knife away with his cloak, though that's obviously not it. She doesn't believe in fairytales about magical cloaks. The knife clatters on the cobblestone. "Could you stop throwing stuff at me?"

"Sorry," she replies, not sounding it. "Force of habit. Go on."

He scoffs. "You're the worst smelling human I've ever come across."

She snorts. "Oh no. So, if I cut my palm right now, you won't care at all?"

His nostrils flare just at the mention. He rolls his eyes, dropping off the ledge, cloak flaring up, landing soundlessly without really bending his knees. "What's wrong with you?"

"Got a vampire stalking me and can't get rid of him," she replies, unconsciously reaching for her gun. "Not for lack of trying, though. I thought that was obvious."

"How about you leave that gun where it is," he suggests. "And you just let me talk. As I said, I'm not going to kill you."

This fucking liar again. She's not in the mood for games. "Did Schmidt send you?"

"He wants you," the vampire replies.

"Dead," she specifies.

"Alive," he corrects. "He wants to turn you. Recruit you."

She shudders inwardly. "Oh, so you _are_ going to kill me."

"I will merely bring you to him," he claims. "So he can turn you himself."

She scoffs. "If I end up bitten by a vampire, you better believe I would walk straight into the sun."

"Trust me," he returns softly. "You wouldn't."

She bares her teeth at him, him doing the same. Can't shake it. "Sure. I've seen plenty of young vampires, I know turning is just _great_."

"It's painful," he admits. "But you'll always want to live."

She sneers. "That's not _living._ You're not _alive_."

"Point of view," he says. "But I certainly won't kill you."

"Why me?" she questions. "What's so special about me, except for my horrible smell?"

"You're giving Rumlow a hard time," he states. "Ever since you came here. So why not turn a pain in the ass into an advantage?"

"I'm not going to be an advantage to you," she repeats. "So you can just kill me, really, that's easier on both of us."

He scoffs. "Again, not doing that. But take your time. I have a couple more nests to clean up."

"You really think I'm going to _agree_ to being turned?" she asks, bewildered. "I'm a hunter. Are you sure you thought that through?"

"You will," he replies. "Trust me."

"I don‘t," she clarifies. "Even if I'm not currently throwing silver things at you."

"So you don't want to hear about the nest in Žižkov," he remarks.

She groans inwardly and asks the stupid question. "So you're not going to kill all of my hunter friends?"

"Oh right," he states. "I won't. If you agree to be turned."

It knocks the wind out of her. "What?! You just forgot the extortion part?!"

"Sorry," he actually replies. "So yes. I think you will agree."

Fuck. How could she- she's not cuddly or anything, not even polite, pretty prickly actually if you ask anyone but Clint, but sentencing them all to _death_ \- but she's going to do worse if she's a vampire. The perfect dilemma. Hurting people either way. She grabs the silver knife, he already looks annoyed, but she only slits through her left palm, hissing at the sting. Blood on the blade, blood in her palm, blood dripping on the cobblestone. He sniffs, involuntarily, fangs coming out, eyes turning into animalistic slits, growling. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Just suck me dry," she says. "Really. I'd prefer that over turning into a monster."

He comes closer, though he clearly doesn't want to, the scent drawing him in. Apparently, her blood doesn't smell bad at all. She holds out her hand, waiting. He growls, prancing back again, moving incredibly fast. Pupils blown. He's shifting so much, breathing in the scent, dragged towards the source, yanking himself back, trying to escape but not really wanting to. She waits, afraid, hand shaking, more blood dripping down. She smells it, too. He growls again, fangs bared, resolve growing thinner and thinner, though he is way more controlled than any other vampire she's ever met. He's still a monster and she never wants to be like him. He has the face of a hungry animal, starving animal, predator. She wiggles her fingers, pressing out more blood. He sneers, sniffing, nothing remotely human about it. Her hand's still shaking, even more.

He flings himself at her, too sudden for her to see, she tries to slash at him but he knocks the knife out of her hand easily, dislocating her right shoulder in the process. Good Lord, he's strong. He yanks her left hand towards his face, breathing rapidly, all tight, she's got tears streaming down her face because fucking shoulder, his eyes are almost all black now, fangs just a few inches from sinking into her hand, but he stays there, blinking rapidly. She groans, get on with it, make the pain-

"What did you put in there?" he snarls, sounding not even remotely human. "What did you put in your blood?"

She presses her eyes shut, praying he'll just do it already, kill her already. "Nothing," comes out as a faint whisper. "Just do it. Suck my blood."

He growls, yanking her hand even farther up, she moans in pain. Just end it already. Just do it.

She's pushed back, all of a sudden, at least a dozen feet, crashing into the chairs of some outdoor restaurant, the pain becomes even worse, she rolls about, groaning, whimpering, trying desperately to breathe. Run over by a truck, that's the feeling. She preens her eyes open, just in time to see him- not _fly_ but jump, black cloak flaring, onto one of the towering ring buildings, 30 feet, 50 feet, she's too broken to estimate, then jump again, seemingly carried by the wind, and he's out of her field of sight. She groans, pressing her eyes shut for just a second and then dragging herself up, limping back towards the tower.


	2. Chapter 2

"You're really lucky," Bruce confirms, staring into the microscope at her blood sample. "Looks like you don't have silver poisoning. Not for lack of trying, though."

Natasha sits up uncomfortably, rubbing the bandage over her left palm. "What would that even look like? In humans?"

"Argyria?" Bruce asks. "Skin turns blue or blue-grey. Either locally or generalized. Potentially toxic in high doses or at chronic exposure. Deposits usually in the skin, hence the color, in other organs, particularly the eyes. Can damage rods in the eye, impairing vision, particularly night vision, and can also impact organ functions. Most of all, never ever goes away."

Natasha shudders. "Sounds like it could be worse."

"It's doubtful the dose you took would have killed a vampire," Bruce adds sternly. "Even if he drank all the blood in your hand. People have experimented with that in the past, it only works very very rarely. So stop poisoning yourself."

Fury is staring at her with one eye. Oh great, he's gonna have words. "Promise," Natasha says. "Won't do it again."

"Hope so," Bruce repeats, cleaning out the petri dish. "Tell me if your hand does go blue in the sun. Other than that, you should rest for at least a week, you look like you got run over."

Plus going out into the night with a bleeding wound is suicide, no matter how well bandaged. And really, she just wants to sleep. But first, she'll have to face Fury, Fury standing there, arms crossed. She sighs, turning to face him, not trusting her legs enough to get up. "Come on. Just get it over with, I know I fucked up."

Bruce decides he maybe should not be here and excuses himself. Fury's face doesn't change, even when the door falls shut. She snorts inwardly, as if the silent treatment would work on her. But she's tired. "Just say it. I broke the rules."

"I don't appreciate you trying to sacrifice yourself," Fury states. "But I can't say I don't understand it."

Not the tone she expected. She breathes in deeply, against the protest of her rips. "That's not-"

"It is," Fury interrupts. "But that's never going to work. So sleep, and then we'll work out how we get this motherfucker  _ together _ ."

She sighs again. Boy, her right shoulder still hurts from time to time, even though Bruce relocated it and put her on painkillers. "Do you think that's going to work, though? That we have a chance?"

"I don't know," Fury replies honestly. "But if there is, that's the only way."

* * *

Strangely enough, nobody really asks her what the black cloak actually wanted. Then again, it's probably a bunch of lies anyway. Except that he honestly doesn't seem to plan on killing her or he really would have. Why would she trust anything he claims to want, though? She won't be played with.

While Fury mostly lets her off the hook, Clint is very pissed at her. The words  _ reckless, crazy  _ and  _ suicidal _ fall. She holes herself up in her room, sleeps, only comes out at night to eat and generally pretends she's dead.

Her left hand grows an unhealthy ashen color, swelling up as well, especially around the cut, creeping up her forearm. So she does have some silver poisoning. She doesn't show Bruce, though, because she is so fucking tired. Sleeps most of the day. It calms down after a few days of rest, only leaving another scar in her palm.

"You're a pale motherfucker, Romanoff," Tony the tinker remarks, stuffing more grapes into his mouth with his greasy fingers. "Maybe I should point a UV beam at you?"

She snorts, opening the fridge. At least she doesn't have to look for her own food anymore, like when she was running around Saint Petersburg all alone. "I'll hack your precious fingers off. Where's the meat?"

"Meatpacking plant got attacked again," Tony clarifies. "No, seriously. Do you remember the sun? Incredibly bright, yellowish, gives you that weird warm feeling?"

"I do go out during the day," she insists, slamming the door of the fridge shut. At least some bacon… but no. "When I'm not recovering. Seriously, no meat at all?"

"None, Clint ate the last sausages," Tony states, slapping after a fly but missing. "You can take some of Sam's protein powder, he claims it's very healthy."

She rolls her eyes demonstratively, yanking the fridge open again, spotting some eggs at least. "Guess it's better than them going on a killing rampage in Vinohrady. Though I would die for a juicy burger."

"Don't flirt with me, Romanoff, we talked about this," Tony teases. "Bruce says it's more like a gateway drug. The animal blood, not the flirting. That too but he obviously didn't mention that."

She gives him a warning look, cracking the eggs into the pan. "What are you even doing? It's the middle of the night."

"Pepper's out tonight, testing her new armor," Tony replies. "Probably not coming back soon, though. Actually, I should go back to bed."

Natasha grins crudely. "Awww. Can't sleep, huh?"

"Shut the fuck up, you heartless shell of a human," Tony returns. "Enjoy your stupid eggs."

* * *

Her shoulder still slows her down. Jab. Block. Jab- too slow. His kick hits her, knocking her back. Fuck. Block. Dodge. Jab jab- ouch. He doesn't take it, probably because he knows he doesn't need it. Upstrike. Jab cross jab knee strike- it actually lands, though not very hard. Block. Dodge. Block. Punch- too slow. Block block block. Kick. Blocked. He catches her on her back foot so she stumbles back, block, dodge, lash out, tumble-

She grunts as she lands on her bandaged hand. Should get up before he pounces, not give him the chance to- fuck, she's so tired. She groans, dropping on her back. "Fine. I give up."

"Took you long enough," Sam remarks, unwrapping his hands. "You're a lot stronger than you look, though, I have to give you that."

She huffs, pulling her knees up. Breathe. "Not quite back at my best yet."

"Pretty close," Sam corrects, holding a hand out for her. "Wanna get up? I'm cooking dinner."

She waves him off. Not in the mood for that many people. "Thanks. Just gonna lie here."

"Mhm." He sits down next to her. "Is everyone mean to you, just because you disregarded every rule of safe conduct in the face of an unprecedented danger?"

"Fuck you and your psychology degree," she returns. "Just leave me alone."

"You're really no good at dealing with problems that you can't shoot in the face," Sam observes, getting back on his feet. "I haven't done my isha prayer yet, do you mind?"

She shakes her head, staying on the floor. She won't admit it but she actually enjoys listening to him pray. While she can no longer believe in God, it gives her some momentary comfort that he can. "I'll put some food aside for you later," he offers while getting his bowl and filling it with water. "Whenever you feel like eating."

She nods to herself, closing her eyes, then quiets her breath down enough so she can hear him recite Basmala and wash his hands.

* * *

Clint also gives her the silent treatment, even after a week. She can live with that. Though she doesn't really want to. The streets are way more quiet at night now, but people are starting to doubt there's  _ really  _ a black cloak. If there was, it would have to somehow be worse, more murders, more blood in the streets than just the occasional execution of inept vampire fledglings. If the hammer doesn't come down, no matter how loud it cuts through the air, one starts wondering whether it's really there.

They're patrolling the riverside today, up from Vyšehrad towards the National Theatre, staring occasionally across the Vltava. The castle's lit brightly, tauntingly. As if they're holding a crooked dance of the dead. Clint draws his bow, just for the hell of it, because a patrol is always an incredibly tense and taut affair. He's right, the bow's incredibly quiet. The vampire the silver arrow hits won't be, though. Slowly releases. Natasha breathes out. "They're really high on their horses, aren't they."

Clint makes a non-committal noise, shrugging and turning away. Won't cut it. There's a car coming down from Karlovo Náměstí, loudly spluttering over the breaks in the asphalt. The roads have seen better days, too. Clint raises an eyebrow and puts in an arrow. Vampires don't drive, obviously, but they often follow cars waiting for the occupants to stop and climb out. Easy prey. The car's brakes screech as it prepares for the turn, the driver's face flashing yellow as it comes closer to the street light, eyes widening, and then he yanks the car to the left, speeding past and away from them, South. Maybe, if he drives far enough outside the city, he'll be safe. Clint snorts, lowering the bow. "Yeah, thanks."

As if they looked like vampires, with all the body armor and all the silver on their persons. Natasha shakes her head, internally grateful the silence is broken. "Forget about him. Let's check the roofs around, maybe the noise lured some out."

Clint nods, shuffling across the now again empty street. They know the area very well, since it's the closest thing they have to a frontline, the hunting parties from the castle crossing the river to find prey. "You wanna stay on the ground?"

"No, coming with you," Natasha replies quickly, following him through a backyard. She promised not to run around alone after all, and she doesn't feel like suffering the silence alone either. There's music playing somewhere inside, soft and jazzy, somewhere in the warm light behind the curtains. Clint throws a grappling hook up a balcony, grabbing onto her wordlessly, and then they're already pulled up into the night sky, climbing and crawling up onto the roof.

The noise is different up here, less people, more wind. There's some traffic, somewhere, constant humming in the background. Cars these days are fairly safe. Getting out is the hard part. There's light in some windows, those that aren't behind wooden shutters. The river glitters with the moonlight. Clint settles on the top of the roof, surveying the area. She crawls up as well, pushing some loose strands of hair behind her ears. The shadows are quiet, for now.

"I'm sorry if I worried you," she says. "That was not my intention."

Clint bites his lip. It's clear he doesn't want to talk. Well, so would she, but here they are. "Fury didn't even care, did he?"

"Because he didn't rip my head off?" Natasha questions.

"You could've  _ died _ ," Clint repeats. "Damn close. You shouldn't even have gone out. He didn't seem overly concerned, to say the least."

"Guess he lost a few too many," Natasha replies. "This job… it helps not to get too attached."

"That's not what you deserve," Clint states.

Someone opens a window, a middle-aged woman, pulling out a cigarette. When she sees their silhouettes on the roof, she slams and bolts the window again.

"It's after 1am, isn't it?" Natasha asks. "They're getting careless again."

Clint huffs. "Aren't we all. See that down there?"

Natasha leans over the edge to see better. "Think that's just a bag of trash. After all, been a long time since we last saw a homeless person."

"You never saw that, did you," Clint remarks. "Wasn't great seeing them, but not seeing them anymore is worse."

Natasha huffs. "Plenty of homeless people in Moscow. And Petersburg. The very first ones they got, when no one cared yet."

"Got something of a divine punishment, doesn't it," Clint states. "Turning those we neglected against us."

"Man is wolf to man, right," Natasha agrees. A light turns on somewhere and there's faint arguing carried over by the wind. She remembers women locked out of their apartments by abusive partners after sundown, kids thrown out by their parents, the threat of being left outside in the dark hanging over everything. Since the police stopped patrolling at night, everything falls into nothing. Anarchy. At the mercy of whoever's stronger, more brutal.

Clint gets up carefully, watching every step. "Let's cross to the other side."

They climb South, over the roofs. What they don't tell you is that most of the time, nothing happens, nothing at all. Just sitting around, paying constant attention and definitely not falling asleep because that gets you killed. Also why you don't go out alone. It's 90% boring as hell and 10% deadly.

There's hardly any movement on this side either. Another stray feline beast. Rats, almost bigger than the cat. Many of the windows are just empty, dead. The city lost a hundred thousand to the vampires and another three hundred thousand to the safer seeming countryside, not counting the other side of the river. Everything has changed so much. It's like a war, right here, only fought at night. A bloody war.

The silence is more comfortable now. Clouds move quickly, with the wind, and the moonlight soon drowns in them. "I don't know if someone told you," Clint remarks quietly. "But I wasn't particularly pleased when you came here to join us."

Natasha smiles to herself. "I know."

"You didn't seem like a teamplayer, to put it mildly," Clint justifies. "And you're still holding back, but you know the ropes now."

Does she, now? "Is that why you were so pissed I went out alone?"

Clint laughs, bellowing. "Turns out you don't actually think you can solve every problem on your own. Just that you have to."

"Not true," she returns, pushing against his shoulder, carefully, and then they settle into an amicable silence.

After about half an hour, the armor becomes uncomfortable to sit in. It's not a cold night but moisture has still settled on the roof so that she's extra careful getting up. Clint stretches his arms. She slips slightly, grabbing onto the edge of an alcove to steady herself, only slowly straightening again.

"Tasha!"

She whips around, just in time to see a black silhouette diving towards her, it crashes into her like a wall, knocking her far off the roof, she grabs on automatically, twisting, window straight ahead, rolls up to prepare for-

Just as she slams into the glass pane, her  _ side _ , she's pulled back and suddenly, they're diving down another street, cool night air cutting tears into her eyes, oh shit, house, house, stone, closer, closer, closer-

They ricochet off almost noiselessly, up again, towards whichever fucking floor that is, another street, another house, another window, house, stone, glass glass glass-

Whatever she's knocked into doesn't break but she hears the glass, barely has time to roll in on herself, then they crash, stopped, all the speed turning into  _ impact _ , some  _ crack _ , and boy, her  _ spine. _

She's thrown around once again but then it stops, only her insides swim, her sight, sick, sick, can't hear properly, her vision swims red, groans, the glass beneath her crunches but the armor, thank Tony, up, down, up, up, up, she presses her eyes shut and her gloved hands down, her back  _ hurts _ , right side, shoulder, no time, she fights herself up to seated. The black cloak stands by an intact window, up, they're high up, staring out, boy, she's ready to throw up. "Are you  _ batshit crazy _ ?!"

He doesn't reply obviously, that fucking asshole, intently focused outside. She tries to breathe again, despite her ribcage and the pressure of her armor. "We should be good," he states, not paying her any mind. "He's going the other-  _ ouch. _ "

She reaches for her gun while he plucks the silver throwing star out of his thigh, only to find the belt must have ripped, cut by one window or the other, gone, and then he's already turned back to her and she missed her chance. "For the last fucking time, could you stop throwing things at me?"

"Are you  _ insane _ ?!" she screams at him. "The fuck are you doing?"

He rolls his white eyes, throwing star dropping to the ground carelessly. He's bleeding but not much, as far as she can tell. Dammit. "Calm down."

"Calm down?" she repeats. " _ Calm down _ ?"

"Try not to cut yourself," he advises. "I'm sorry I hurt you last time, I'm not going to do it again."

This guy is un-fucking-real. Off-the-chart annoying. Another wave of sickness overcomes her. "Maybe don't knock me through a window next time? Two. Two windows."

"You didn't go  _ through  _ the first one," he returns. "And I took the second one for you, you're welcome. Not my fault you're so hard to grab for a talk."

"Oh, now it's my fault?" she questions. "A fucking  _ talk _ ?"

"Yes." He strides over. "Have you decided?"

"Whether I would rather be turned into a monster," she clarifies. "Or see all of my friends die."

"Yes," he confirms calmly, squatting down to her height. "It's not going to become any easier."

"I was being sarcastic," she remarks. "How about I get rid of you instead?"

He  _ smirks, _ fang peaking out, and dangling something from his hand. Her belt. With the guns. Motherfucker. "Don't think so, sweetheart."

She calculates mentally whether there's any chance she could snatch that- not without a good distraction. But she can't think of anything other than cutting herself, and she's not ready for that. "I could always bite the bullet myself."

He chuckles, and it sounds frighteningly  _ human _ . "No, you wouldn't."

"You don't know anything about me," she bites back.

"I know more than you think," he replies, straightening and backing away, taking the belt with him. The throwing star is by the window, too far, can't reach. Is there anything else… "I know why you left Russia."

She freezes, very cold all of a sudden. No. No. Nononononono- "I know what you did there," he adds. "Really, you're not better than anyone."

She jumps to her feet, crunching glass. Don't engage. Don't feed the flames. "Give me my guns. Or I'll cut myself."

He seems exasperated. "You couldn't goad me into a blood frenzy if you cut an artery."

Bluffing. "Guns," she repeats, holding out a hand.

"I could still murder your friends," he points out coldly. "Starting with the one with the arrows."

Her hand drops. Her head's still spinning. Shouldn't poker too high. She feels very lost all of a sudden. "I'm not going to hurt you," he repeats for the umpteenth time. "Or any of your friends, if I don't have to. Just agree already."

"I don't give a fuck about your empty lies," she spits.

"Well, I do," he replies. "You know, you remind me of myself. Before."

"Before you turned into a fucking monster," she specifies. "Before you started hunting humans for blood."

He looks slightly disgusted. "I hardly ever feed on humans."

"Oh great," she cuts him off. "Then you're  _ hardly ever  _ a murderer."

Surprisingly, he throws her one of her guns. She's too slow to catch. "This look innocent to you? But I forget, you're obviously something  _ better _ ."

There's a trap somewhere. She can't just shoot him- "I'll take you to Žižkov," he announces. "Satisfy your own bloody urges. Then you can think about whether you're really all that different."


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Action! World building! Background story!

Inhuman scream.

She's covered in vampire blood already but this guy just won't go down, his eyes very dark red, she slashes at his chest again, using his dodge to wrap her legs around his neck, her momentum knocking him down. She's up faster, tangling with his friend, claws scratching over her already dented armor, she kicks the woman in the stomach with both feet, dropping onto her back but bouncing right back up. The guy tries to grab her from behind so she elbows him in the face and steps on his foot, ramming her shoulder into him and twisting so he rolls right over, crashing into his female friend. Takes the second to retrieve her knife, gun's too far out. They're already scrambling up again. She flashes her teeth and they return it with their fangs, plunging towards her.

Rolling out from under the bigger guy, the woman lands right on top of her, sinking her fangs into the bite guard that makes a pitiful noise. She flips them over and socks her on the jaw. The guy grabs her by her hair, yanking her back which hurts like a bitch but she's not one to cry, kicking his knee out, satisfying  _ crack _ , slashing the silver knife through his ribcage,  _ howl _ , splattering blood, trades blows with the vampiress while he falls to his knees. The woman tries to bite her arm again but she whips the creature around, breaking her arm behind her back, inhuman cry, slashes precisely through the guy's neck, blood spluttering, and then she snaps the woman's neck, tossing her onto the asphalt like a rag doll.

Something drops from a lamp post and she spins, ready to fight, already covered in blood and gore, but it's just the black cloak who strides towards her confidently. She snorts, walking away to retrieve the gun.

He nods towards the three vampires, the one she shot straight through the heart, the one with the bleeding neck and the one with the twisted spine who still tries to crawl away. "Tell me you didn't enjoy that."

She doesn't say anything, just checking the ammunition left. It's obvious. Well, she should clean up.

"Do you mind if I drink her?" he asks. "Since you didn't hit her with silver."

She stops, tilting her head, then shrugs. The woman howls but can't get anywhere before he crouches over her, black cloak covering, and then it's deadly quiet. She walks over and hacks the bleeding vampire's head off.

He feeds in complete silence. When he straightens, the woman's body is crumpled, dry but there's only little blood around his mouth. Not like a young vampire in a blood frenzy. "So you hunt vampires," she states. "And you feed on vampires."

"Young vampires," he specifies, licking his lips. "With human blood left. Vampire blood smells and tastes foul."

"Has other advantages, though," she remarks.

He grins. His fangs are streaked with both gold and dark blood. "You could have it. Just say yes."

"I'm not loyal," she counters. "I don't follow orders. Schmidt wouldn't like that."

"You would," he returns. "It's not a choice."

She snorts. "Not even for you?"

"No," he replies. "He turned me. I have to obey him."

"I've never heard of that," she states.

"It's not that common," he admits. "But for him, always. How else do you think the large nests like in the castle work?"

"Mind control," she repeats. "No, wait, you're dead, you don't have a mind. And you want to get me into  _ that _ ?"

"It's not my choice," he admits again. "But I would prefer to have you around rather than having to kill all your friends."

"But you're not remotely controlled," she argues. "There has to be a way around this. He can't have given you super specific orders without loopholes."

"You ask too many questions, dollface," he returns. "I should get going before day strikes."

"The fuck did you just call me?" she asks with amusement, wiping dark blood off her face. "How fucking old are you?"

"Don't you know that?" he asks back. "Think about it. It's really not the worst thing in the world."

* * *

"I was fucking worried!" Clint exclaims. "What the fuck even happened, you look like you took a blood bath, where were you, are you hurt, just, what the  _ fuck _ ?"

"I'm fine, I'm fine," she hurries to say. "Just, we need to talk. Before we get back."

Clint looks her up and down pointedly. "Like that? On the street?"

Fair. She ducks away into a side passage, hoping nobody comes by at this time. "I'm fine. Really. Just vampire blood."

"What the fuck happened," Clint repeats. "Did you- did he bite you?"

"Absolutely not, I promise," she assures him. "I'm clean."

"You don't look clean," Clint points out. "But- oh. He wants to bite you."

"Kinda," she admits. "It's complicated. But I'm definitely clean. I'm not sure whether he's telling the truth but- Schmidt might want to recruit me into his charges."

Clint snorts. "Oh yeah. He's definitely lying."

"That's what I thought too," she agrees. "But what else could he want?"

"You're a  _ hunter _ ," Clint points out. "You kill vampires, you'd rather walk into the sun than help one."

She's not so sure of that anymore. "No, you're right. I just don't see- nothing else makes sense either."

"He's playing you," Clint says softly. "Don't think too much about it, it will never make sense to you. It's just a game for bored monsters. Just make sure you don't get hurt, okay?"

"Yeah," she agrees. "Sure. Just- yeah. Okay."

* * *

" _ Again _ ?!" Fury asks. "This guy's definitely fake. There's only so many times you can get not killed by a real black cloak."

"Definitely real," Clints counters. "I saw him. He was flying around like a giant fucking bat."

Natasha massages her right side, wincing. It was hard enough to get out of the dented armor, even without all the bruises. "Raise your arm," Bruce demands. "Ouch, that looks painful."

"He's playing some stupid mind games with her," Clint explains. "God knows why. But she should really stay in before he snatches her up again."

Feels wrong under her skin. "He could snatch anyone up," Fury states. "Should we all just tuck in nicely when the sun goes down?"

"He hasn't killed anyone yet, as far as we know," Clint points out. "Except the baby vampires. And he only ever abducted Tasha, right, Tasha?"

"Far as I know," she mutters while Bruce inspects the mark from her bite guard. "He said he was stalking me."

Fury looks very displeased. "She'll have to stay in anyway, with those bruises. Let's see what he does in the meantime."

"Yeah," Clint agrees. "Let's do that. I'll jump under the shower now."

Fury steps up to her while Bruce moves to feel her ribs, making her wince again. "Sure you're fine?"

"No bite, though the armor bruised her bad," Bruce replies before blushing. "Sorry."

"Yeah, I'm fine," she replies as well. "Just a little scuffle with some vampires."

"You killed the wrong ones," Fury remarks with amusement. "Not the big one."

"Tried, but he's a tough motherfucker," she admits. "Never seen anything like it."

"I know." Fury shakes his head. "Get some rest. We'll work something out."

He leaves and she's left with Bruce who's still awkwardly feeling around her ribs. She stretches her neck one way and the other, the dented bite guard having taken a toll. "Nothing broken, right? It doesn't feel broken."

"Doesn't seem so," Bruce mutters, not looking up. "You're really lucky."

There's a black cloak stalking her, for whatever twisted reason. "Not really, trust me."

Bruce pulls back, staring at her. Oh boy, here they go. "Could you promise me something?"

He looks so  _ honest _ , so simple. Kind like she never was. "Like what?"

"I don't wanna have to say that ever again," he states determinedly. "That you didn't get killed just because you're insanely lucky."

Lump in her throat. "I don't actively try to get killed, you know."

He huffs, turning away, and she knows she fucked up again. She twists, painfully, and pulls a shirt on. Her right side's really bad. Yeah, she's never gonna jump through a window again, but it's not like it was her decision this time either. "I'll try. I promise."

That's not the same thing and they both know it. And now she'll extract herself from this uncomfortable situation, like she always does, leaving a foul taste in her mouth, and neither of them will be happy. That's the way it always goes.

"Thanks," she states, pulling on sweatpants and picking up the dented armor. "I'll take a shower and go to bed. I'll… I'll see you around. Dinner or something."

* * *

She sleeps through dinner and misses it, as always. Tony and Pepper are already out, Clint is downstairs training, Bruce and Sam are playing checkers in the living area. It still smells of eggs and bacon, which is ideal when some people are just getting up and others are heading to bed already. "Hey," Sam remarks, staring at the board in concentration. "We left you some, don't worry."

"Appreciate it," she replies, scratching the egg out of the pan. "Who's winning?"

Sam huffs. "Bruce insists there's a guaranteed draw but so far, no."

"With perfect play," Bruce specifies quietly. "Tony and I worked out a computer model that solves- well, should solve- nevermind."

Great, it's awkward. She checks the plan on the wall. "Mhm. Someone might have to take my Wednesday shift."

"Yeah, talked about that at dinner," Sam agrees. "Just wait until Fury changes it."

"So what are you going to do now?" Bruce asks. "When you're not on patrol?"

"I was thinking about going to the Archive," she suggests. "Do some research on the black cloaks. Maybe I can figure out who that one is."

"Might be useful," Sam agrees, stopping in his movement. "Wait. You're looking at me like I'm about to make a horrible mistake."

Bruce blushes. "No, no, it's, just- yes. That one. Over there."

Sam groans, dropping the piece. "Oh man, I always miss something. Okay. Give me a minute."

"Sure," Bruce agrees. "So you… saw him? You know what he looks like?"

She puts her plate in the microwave. "There are probably no pictures. But if he was turned during the first Uprising, judging by the color of his eyes… well, Schmidt wouldn't have turned just anyone, right?"

"Oh yeah," Sam mutters sourly. "He was very racist about that."

"I mean, the fang thing changes the sound of the voice and pronunciation and all," she admits, crossing her arms. "But I think he might have been American. Vocabulary-wise. Before he turned into an inhuman monster, of course."

"Natasha," Bruce suggests softly, which she hates. "Does that really matter?"

"Maybe," she returns defiantly. "And what else am I supposed to do? All those booby traps won't help, let's be real."

"I mean," Sam adds, finally placing the piece. "He hasn't murdered us all yet, so that's definitely in their favor."

* * *

Prague's a good place to research this. There's still files from the Protectorate Bohemia-Moravia. She heads out in the morning, the sun itchy on her skin. Tony's right, she wasn't out in a while, at least in daylight.

She knows the basic story, that Johann Schmidt, ardent Nazi, was the first to become infected with the vampire disease or whatever you want to call it, secret research facility in Northern Italy, tucked away inside the Alps, and then he started turning other people. The Nazis were intrigued at first, another potential weapon in the raging war, but the more Schmidt started insisting on the  _ superiority _ of vampires, the more they became spooked. And they already had a Führer, no need for another megalomaniac messiah. So they made plans and when Schmidt's Uprising came, they squashed it with the same thoroughness they used to kill six million Jews. Never got Schmidt, though, and a couple of others who allegedly spread out over the continent, hiding. Waiting. Until a few years ago. God, it's really just a few years, it feels like centuries.

It was mostly German history, since the vampires were never used in the war, and hence the German files are the best place to look for her black cloak. This archive is never particularly busy, though the Government removed some files for their own research. She checks in, locks her stuff away and proceeds to the registry.

Nobody really knows how many vampires there actually were. The Nazis document 24 killings, with at least ten escaping, including Schmidt. Who knows how many more they never even saw. Who knows what other seeds Schmidt planted, so to speak. It doesn't take many vampires to spark a global outbreak, though, if you are well organized.

The 24 are easier to identify. Especially the former German soldiers. Some were friends, allies of Schmidt who seemed to really have believed in the whole new better human thing. Then again, as far as she's concerned, every Nazi is a monster already. Her family had plenty of stories about the war and the suffering, about Leningrad, Moscow and Stalingrad.

There's not much on the 24 either, though. Allied uniforms were found in Schmidt's abandoned facility, suggesting either some cooperation with a Western power, their killing of allied soldiers or, most interesting, that potentially there were prisoners of war among the turned. She doesn't really understand the description of machines in the facility but it certainly looks like there was research in many directions.

She learns about Zola, too. Arnim Zola, Swiss scientist, eugenicist, racist, but brilliant. Must have had an absolute meeting of the minds with Schmidt. He's believed to have developed the vampire virus or disease or whatever it is, though it is not clear whether he actually took it himself. Schmidt commonly described himself as the first of a new kind of humans, after all. However, Zola's body was never found.

She moves to a clunky computer to request American military data on which units they had in the area during Schmidt's activities and who went missing. Though they probably won't answer her, because why would they bother. Same thing for the French resistance. She tries to figure out what other forces might have been there. Maybe the British.

"Oh my," a startling voice remarks. "You actually left the house, in broad daylight."

She turns around and Tony's already dragging up a chair. He looks a little ruffled but it appears to have been a calm patrol. "You even know how to use a computer?"

"Excuse me," she throws back. " _ We  _ put the first man in space. Don't forget that."

"Yeah, hurrah," Tony remarks sarcastically. "Doing research, I see?"

She flips the folders open again. "There's pictures from Schmidt's facility. Does that mean anything to you?"

Tony studies the picture with interest but frowns. "From a corny black-and-white picture? No. Also, never judge a machine from the outside."

"They found allied uniforms," Natasha adds, flipping a few pages. "Though it is not specified which. What if some of the turned were actually prisoners of war?"

"What if they just sucked them dry? What if they did infiltration?" Tony asks back, crossing an ankle over his knee and leaning back. "But okay, let's go with it for now."

"How likely is it that a Frenchman, American, British soldier, whatever, how likely is it that a captured enemy soldier decides to follow Schmidt?" she asks. "By their own wishes?"

"By their own volition," Tony corrects. "I don't know. Nobody said they chose to be turned. But yeah, that raises questions about after."

"There must be something," Natasha insists. "Think of freshly turned vampires, a whole bunch of them. It would have been absolute mayhem. Schmidt must have had some way to control them."

"You mean, other than being the most powerful vampire ever?" Tony remarks. "Well, whatever. But I hear you got kidnapped by the black cloak."

She snorts, turning back to the screen. "Yeah. God knows why."

"Look, I don't like asking this," Tony says. "But maybe… did he try to flirt with you?"

She spins around. " _ What?! _ "

The library lady shushes them angrily in passing. As if anyone else cares. Tony fiddles with his hands, uncomfortably. "You know vampires sometimes have children with human women. Vampire women can't, but males do. There's a couple of cases. So maybe-"

"Tony," she tries.

"It's just that he seems really focussed on you, for no reason," Tony continues. "And he let you go an unbelievable number of times. So I think it makes the most sense if-"

"Tony," she tries again.

"I know that's not something you want to talk about," Tony says. "But you should consider what he actually wants is a vampire monster ba-"

"Tony!" She almost hisses. "I can't have kids."

Tony blinks, dumbfounded. "Oh. Sorry."

"Not a big deal," she says, though it is. "But I'm definitely not going to give birth to some weird abomination."

"Maybe tell him that," Tony suggests. "Casually. See how he reacts. Maybe he leaves you alone then. Or he murders you."

She snorts. "Yeah, that knowledge will be super useful when I'm dead."

"Still the best theory," Tony insists. "I mean, he doesn't know you can't- yeah. Just keep it in mind."

"That's fucked up, though," she remarks. "So, you're just gonna sit there and talk or are you gonna help me research?"

* * *

She sleeps through a few more days and nights until the bruises feel better. Fury is awake when she goes downstairs.

She always says their stronghold is in the powder tower, because she likes that ghastly piece of stone, but that's actually just the smallest part. Mostly, they took over the Opera house and the former national bank. There's even a cool tunnel in between. The national bank relocated outside the city, together with the whole government, and the opera just had to close when nobody left the house at night anymore. Some of the singers were reportedly bitten, too.

Fury is reading a newspaper, frowning. The sun is still up outside. "I moved your shift. Don't even think about it."

Neither of them is known for their friendliness. "So I'm just going to stay inside until he comes here to kill us all."

"This place is safe, Romanoff," Fury insists. "Remember that. In every way."

She huffs. "I would prefer if you had an actual  _ plan _ ."

"We're getting a transfer," Fury announces. "From Munich. Very capable. Stark's working on something, too. I can't do  _ more  _ than that."

"So one more person is going to die?" she asks coldly. "You know what, I'm going to spend the night in town."

Fury's one eye scrutinizes her. "You're not going on patrol, are you?"

"I'll stay indoors," she promises, grabbing her jacket. "But not  _ here _ ."

* * *

She has a number of apartments around town, empty, abandoned rooms. Some people are superstitious about it or believe vampires come back to where they last found prey, but not her. Well, she hunts vampires, so maybe her risk assessment is not that solid.

It's an old building in Vinohrady today. Used to be a pretty neighborhood, as far as she heard. She opens the window when night falls, breathing in, then sits down by the door, silver gun right in front of her.

She really doesn't know what to do. Killing him isn't realistic, she could never be a vampire monster but sentencing everyone to death… She always liked the moral clarity about being a hunter. She just kills bad monsters to protect good people. Of course, Alexei already had made that more complicated. This time, there's just no good option.

There's a whiff of air and then he's crouching on the window sill, perfectly balanced, nods towards her gun lying there on the floor. "You're gonna shoot me?"

"No," she replies, which is exactly what she would say if she was going to shoot him. "But you never know what comes through an open window."

He drops to the floor silently, walking through the room. "Seems like you wanted to meet."

Wanting is greatly exaggerated. "What if I can't decide?"

"It's not that hard," he insists, studying a broken cupboard. God, he almost has his back to her. "But I have a full moon. 30 days. Then you have to decide."

"So ten more days," she states. "And then you're going to kill all my friends."

He sighs. "As I said, not my preferred option."

"But what if I'm really just undecided?" she asks. "Schmidt never sent a black cloak to wipe us all out, but now he sends one to recruit me. That clearly has more value to him. Maybe he would be willing to wait a little longer. After all, he's old as fuck, what's another moon or two."

He looks amused, turning back to her. "You want an extension? For what?"

Hell, if she knew. "Could you get one?"

"I don't know," he replies, turning on his heel and wandering towards the window again. "Probably. If I really believe you'll still agree."

"So I have to convince you of that," she states. "Or figure out how to circumvent your mind control thing."

He doesn't say anything, just stares out into the darkness. She gets up and steps a little closer. "No, really. You keep saying that you don't want to do that. What's keeping you from not doing it?"

"He turned me," he mutters. "I have to. I just have to. If he says- I have to."

"But you didn't grab me and abduct me," she argues. "So there's a margin."

He turns, baring his fangs, making her shudder. "What do you  _ want _ ?"

"I wanna get you out of this," she blurts out. "Just tell me  _ how _ ."

He closes his white eyes, breathes. He doesn't always breathe. "No."

"Why?" she prompts, because she's reckless as fuck.

"It  _ hurts _ ," he hisses. "Just thinking- No. God, just- why can't you just  _ agree _ , I promise it's not that bad, that would be  _ so much easier _ ."

"But I won't," she repeats.

He breathes again. "Yeah. You really remind me of myself."

"You didn't want to be turned either, did you?" she asks, leaning against the wall.

"My memory is fuzzy at best," he replies. "You know, I- if it's about the mind control thing, I could bite you. Instead of Schmidt. He wouldn't be happy about it but I guess it wouldn't be too bad."

She snorts. "So I can be your slave instead? No thanks. Also, then he gives you the order to give me an order, that just makes the chain a little longer."

"I might not even have control over you," he remarks. "I never tried. Maybe it doesn't work for me at all."

"Then he'd definitely murder me." She groans, head dropping back. Wait. She just bared her neck. Tucks her chin into her chest again. "No, really. Who were you, before all of this?"

"I'm not sure," he replies hesitantly. "But I remember how I was. Stubborn. Self-righteous. Like you."

"I'm not- I know I did bad shit." She hesitates. "You said you- know."

"I know you beheaded him," he says weirdly gently. "Before any vampire came even close."

However the fuck he knows that. She controls her breathing. "He was- experimenting. With vampire blood. He turned people, just as a source of- But the worst was, with  _ dead  _ people, he put vampire blood in  _ dead  _ people, and they would get up again and follow every command they heard, like- like- golems or something, and I- he was just turning into a monster, more and more every day, way worse than the monsters I hunted, and- yeah. Everyone else thinks the vampires ripped him to pieces, and they did, but I really killed him and made sure he wouldn't come back either."

"But you learned from him," he points out. "How long have you been injecting vampire blood?"

She doesn't answer, doesn't want to. "You smell better now," he remarks. "I didn't figure it out at first but… do the others know?"

She shakes her head. "It- it does make you stronger. And heal faster. I just wanted- And it's barely detectable, at the right dosis."

"I understand," he says.

She huffs angrily. "No, you don't."

He sweeps the black cloak back and rolls up his left sleeve. It's- between the white skin, there are  _ metal  _ bits, crude fillers, more on the outside, interrupting the pale skin that still looks human by comparison to the  _ metal _ . He turns the arm casually, revealing the angry red bite mark on his forearm, seems to never ever go away. "After he bit me, there were issues. I don't know why, but parts of my arm turned grey and foul. So they cut them out and put metal in instead. It- it helps."

"It  _ hurts _ ," she whispers.

"Yes," he admits. "It hurts. But it's stronger now."

"For  _ what _ ?" she asks angrily. "So you can do better what he says? So it hurts when you obey him and it hurts when you think about disobeying him and- don't you  _ see  _ that?"

He steps back. "I really don't know what you want from me."

"Yes, you do," she hisses. "Come on. We can figure this out. Together."

"No," he replies. "We can't." And then he drops out of the window and is gone.


	4. Chapter 4

"Look, I don't like saying it," Sam suggests. "But that might just be Stockholm syndrome."

"It's  _ definitely  _ not Stockholm syndrome," she returns angrily. "Fuck off. I'm just trying to get us all out alive, thank you very much."

"Sounds like it though," Sam insists calmly. "You're literally empathizing with the guy who keeps kidnapping you."

"I still think he's lying," Clint throws in, putting his fork down and leaning back. "And we shouldn't trust him."

"I've never heard of Schmidt recruiting into his guard," Pepper throws in. "Since, you know, the forties. Is that even plausible?"

"If there actually is mind control involved?" Bruce points out. "Why not. But I still doubt it. I mean, how would that even work, neurologically? You'd have to trigger a strong emotional reaction with just a  _ thought _ ."

"As I said," Tony adds. "I still think he's hitting on you."

Bruce blushes, stabbing around his salad. "He's  _ not  _ hitting on me," she hisses back. "You wanna play that through? He could just make me. Not like I could stop him."

"And then you'd put a bullet through your skull," Clint remarks coldly. "No baby. It's far-fetched, I agree, but he clearly gets  _ something  _ out of manipulating you."

"He's not- I wouldn't fall for that," she argues back. "I'm really not gullible."

"You're lonely, though," Sam adds quietly, flicking a fly away.

Clean punch. Knocks her back. "I'm- what?"

Sam huffs. "You've been here for almost two years but you do your damnedest not to let anyone close. You don't wanna talk about anything private, I get it, it's dark, but don't tell me that's  _ fun,  _ never opening up to anyone about anything. And along comes a fucking vampire who claims to understand you, whether he's lying or not, and you just  _ want  _ to believe him."

"Alright, alright," Fury interrupts before the awkward silence settles in. "Putting the personal stuff aside. I think our best option is actually to trust him."

"Excuse me." Tony rubs his ears demonstratively. "I think I misheard. Did you just say  _ trust _ ?"

"Shut up, Stark, I don't like it either," Fury states. "But Romanoff's right. We're not realistically going to kill him. And even if, who knows how many other people he kills before that. We're also not letting anyone turn into a vampire. So the best chance we have is actually to convince him not to murder us, or at least get enough of his trust so we can kill him."

"I agree." Pepper leans her elbows on the table. "It's not a good option but it's the best we have. And Natasha can best assess the risk, so she should decide whether she's willing to take it." She waits and snorts. "Come on, say it. I know you all disagree."

"I don't," Sam says. "I don't like it but I see your point."

"Do you even listen to yourself?" Clint asks. "Convince the killing machine not to kill us? Just because he's playing nice? Why would he  _ do  _ that?"

"Yeah," Tony agrees. "You say you don't want to throw her to the vampires, but you're literally throwing her at the vampire."

Pepper snorts. "Oh, come on. Nobody's  _ throwing  _ her anywhere. This is just Bobbi all over again."

"Could you  _ not _ ," Clint returns sourly.

"Well, since I'm not a team player anyway," Natasha points out coldly. "Why would I listen to any of you?"

"Cut it, all of you," Fury demands. "This is not a nice situation, very dangerous, bla bla bla, we're going to do it. End of discussion."

"We could give her a tracker," Bruce says quietly. "Put it in the suit. Then we'd know where she is at least."

"Oh yeah," Tony agrees. "Monitor a bunch of vitals, too. That should give us a sense of danger."

_ See _ , Fury's look says. "Well. Last chance to back out, Romanoff."

"No," Natasha replies. "I'm good."

* * *

"Yeah, Fury put all of our shifts together, except for one," Pepper remarks. "Hope you don't mind. He's a little… clumsy about that sort of thing, though I generally would not associate the word  _ clumsy  _ with him."

"Should be fine," Natasha says. "Wanna cross the river?"

Pepper grins. "Risky. I like it, let's go."

They walk over to Smíchov, which is generally more risky due to its closeness to the castle but not too risky. The 'vampires can't cross flowing waters' is obviously bullshit but they do tend to keep to their safe side. It's too many of them to clean out the West side of the Vltava, at least for now.

"They were together, right?" Natasha asks. "Clint and that Bobbi woman."

Pepper snorts. "Yeah, if you were wondering why Clint was so cold to you at first. Bobbi was a tracker too. Worked together a lot. Had their issues, though, always."

"And then she left," Natasha points out.

"It can be a bit of a sausage fest around here," Pepper reminds her. "I wasn't going out in the field back then, so Bobbi was the only one. They got their macho thing on of not allowing her to do anything too dangerous, which she hated, for personal reasons."

"It's just a dangerous job," Natasha remarks. "Okay, let's be quiet for now."

It's quiet, as always. Every fucking night. Pepper has the ventail of her helmet up to see better, though Natasha still thinks it would impair her field of vision. They slip through the dark streets and alleys, listening mostly. Her senses don't go off, either. Sometimes, there's just nothing. Most times.

"Did they break up because of that?" Natasha whispers. "Because of work issues?"

Pepper leans against a wall, suit crunching the concrete slightly. "Yes. There was… I think there was always a vague expectation that Clint wanted to retire eventually, move somewhere quiet, have a family, that sort of thing. Bobbi didn't, at least not yet. So as long as the vampire situation got worse and worse, they were just not going to have that."

"What about you and Tony, though?" Natasha asks. "Are you going to retire?"

Pepper snorts softly. "No time soon. And that's okay. You know, we weren't together before this whole thing. I worked for him, actually. Vampires really turn everything on its head."

This is really hitting closer and closer home. "Let's move on."

They cross Arbesovo náměstí, passing an awful amount of rats. The nocturnal rodents really have field nights, when they know they can come out and not be disturbed. Vampires probably also think they're disgusting, so no danger from that side either. "There used to be a horror bar here," Pepper remarks. "For the tourists, brand new. Somehow, nobody finds that funny now."

"It's really quiet today," Natasha remarks. "Wanna move even further North?"

"Just a little," Pepper agrees. "I don't think we should get to Charles bridge."

"Let's move closer to the river," Natasha suggests.

They get almost to the French embassy, which is probably farther than Pepper wanted, when her hair begins to stand. She gives Pepper a sign so she closes the helmet, on alert. There's no sounds, no cars, no animal noises, yet she's  _ sure  _ there's something. They went too far, she's not as familiar with the area anymore. There's that wall with the graffiti, wrong direction, they slowly, carefully, quietly retreat. The shadows are dangerous around here. They turn the corner and there's a  _ guy  _ on the street, dressed black, just waiting for them. He has a jagged knife. Hunting party.  _ Fuck _ .

The guy grins and another vampire slips out of the side alley, an ageless woman with curly black hair. There's only the way forward, blocked, and the way back, which would only bring them closer to the Castle. Two is manageable, even if they're from a hunting party, but who knows how many  _ more  _ there are. Pepper lifts an arm, ready to shoot, but this is really not a fight they  _ want. _

Maybe they can cross through to Kampa somehow, some small passage between the buildings, run, all the doors will be barred though, trying costs time they don't have. The vampire woman sneers at them, the other one joining, daring them. They're essentially cornered. "Smart ideas?" Natasha asks.

"You're  _ just like Tony _ ," Pepper's mechanical voice hisses.

_ Swoosh. _

The vampire startles, staring up at the roof where the black cloak has just landed. Doesn't look pleased. Doesn't look anything, really. The vampiress bares her fangs at him, which he returns, gold shining in the moonlight. She cowers, scared. The guy spits out. "Fine. Let's go."

They retreat slowly, not turning their back, then they hear them running off. More than two. Three, at least. Looking up, the black cloak is gone. Natasha exhales. " _ Fuck  _ that guy."

"Do you want to see whether you can catch him?" Pepper asks. "I'll meet you on Střelecký ostrov."

"Deal," Natasha agrees. "I'll see you."

She walks a little South, tries Kampa, back North, passes the French embassy and the graffiti wall but no fucking sign. It's completely quiet, no vampires, no hunting parties, no nothing. Frustrated, she returns South and crosses the bridge halfway. Pepper's waiting down there. "Gone. Let's get back to Old Town."

Pepper's armor is quite loud on the stone stairs. "It looks like he doesn't want to meet you."

Natasha snorts. "Yeah, looks like I pissed him off last time. Come on, let's get back before they get their panties in a twist again."

* * *

Kick punch twist.

"I'd worry less if you were less reckless," Clint grunts out.

Punch punch elbow strike. He hits her with an uppercut that she dodges easily. "Totally your responsibility," she breathes. "Taking care of me. Fuck you."

The double turning kick's not unexpected but it still throws her off balance. He raises his fists tauntingly. "You suck at it, though."

"I'm  _ alive _ ," she returns, jumping at him and knocking him down. "Grow up. It's really-"

He tries to knock her off but she's too strong, pressing her knee into his chest until he groans and taps out. She gets up, swiping hair out of her sweaty forehead, catching her breath.

"Hey Romanoff," Tony remarks, strolling in. "Next time you go on a suicide trip, do it without my girlfriend, thank you."

She gives him the finger, grabbing a water bottle and downing that. Clint picks himself up slowly. "I'm serious," Tony repeats, leaning on the rope. "You really got us worried. Brucey almost went green when he heard."

She snorts, slipping out of the ring. "I get that one," Tony continues without the slightest care. "It just does something to a guy when he constantly has to fumble around your almost naked body. Can't blame him."

"Shut the fuck up," she hisses at him. "I swear to God, I'm murdering one of you sooner or later."

"Yeah," Clint remarks. "If you don't get killed first."

* * *

She wanders around alone at night again, muttering under her breath like a crazy person. If he doesn't show up again, she swears to God. She decides to turn right before the Central Station towards Wenceslas Square.

The tower is pretty uncomfortable to be in right now and she was anxious to get out. Fury, to her surprise, didn't want anything from her, just saying that he trusts her judgment and her decisions. Unlike other people. And now she's out alone.

The black cloak's sitting on a bench on Wenceslas Square, uncharacteristically undramatic. She walks over. "Hi."

"Hi," he replies. "You're not going to decide in the next few days, are you."

She shakes her head. He sighs, closing his eyes. "I'll have to go back soon. Figure out what to tell them."

She sits down on the same bench. "Yeah. Thanks."

"He probably doesn't expect you to flip so soon anyway," he mutters. "You're a hunter after all. Not going to turn that around that quickly."

She moves a little closer. "Sure. But thanks, really, it… means a lot to me."

He grins suddenly. "Oh, I see what you're doing. No."

She reels back as if he slapped her. The smile drops from his face. "Oh."

She clears her throat, staring down at the cobblestone. "What are you going to tell them?"

"That you're stubborn as fuck but I'd give you another chance," he replies. "I hope you take it."

She doesn't reply. She could never turn into a vampire, could she? Become like him? A monster?

"Try not to get killed while I'm away," he adds. "Rumlow should know not to touch you but he can't always keep everyone in line."

"Fuck that guy," she mutters. "Do you go there? The Castle?"

"Sometimes," he admits. "They're different, though. I don't really fit in."

"Poor you," she remarks sarcastically. "No, really. What do you do all the time, when you're not stalking me?"

"Sleep," he says. "The whole day. At night, try to track down young vampires and vaguely follow you around."

"So you do sleep," she states. "A lot, too."

"Does that surprise you?" he asks. "I'm not dead, you know."

"Yeah, you kinda are, though," she points out. "No offense. I'll try not to die, too, promise."

"Well, good." He shifts. "I don't want you to get hurt."

She snorts. "Other than turning me into a monster, but okay. Do you remember that, turning? Anything?"

"I don't remember turning," he replies. "Too painful, I guess. I mostly remember after. Most of the time in hiding, I was sleeping, so it's not all that long ago for me."

"1993 was forever ago," she insists. "Trust me."

"Really changed your life, didn't it," he remarks.

"I was going to study to become an engineer," she blurts out. "Or a teacher. You know, when the Soviet Union started breaking, it was… it was super scary, the ground disappearing under your feet, but it was also hopeful, almost ecstatic. Everything suddenly seemed possible."

"Sorry, but I really can't imagine you as a teacher," he states. "Yeah. Including a vampire outbreak?"

She snorts. "Not that. I started studying English, to have all the possibilities that came with, and then in 1993, when the outbreak started… Everything gone. The year was tough already before, and suddenly there was no silver lining anymore. Like a war. And I joined a group of hunters, like a soldier."

"With Shostakov," he remarks. "And Petrovich."

He knows way too much. "We were going to get married," she explains. "Before. But then, that road shut down completely and we were just going to fight this war and probably die doing it. We found this group of Afghanistan veterans, including Ivan, some of the only people who really seemed to know what they were doing. They wouldn't take us at first, because we were oh so young and we had that supposedly bright future, but as matters got worse everywhere, they relented. So we never married and I got sterilized and… yeah, we fought. And then I killed him."

"I'm sorry," he says. "You know, I… I should probably tell you something."

Her ears start ringing. "What?"

He sighs. "I started the outbreak in Russia."

She starts laughing, shocked, stopping just as quick. "You  _ what _ ?"

"When Schmidt decided the time was right," he explains hesitantly. "Everyone had their role. I was sent to Russia. I was ordered to Russia."

She bites her tongue accidentally. "How many?"

"What?" he asks uncomfortably.

"How many people did you bite?" she snaps. "How many people did you have to bite to  _ ruin my life _ ? Everyone's life?"

He sighs. "Eight in Moscow. Four in Saint Petersburg. I thought that would be enough."

" _ Hell  _ it was enough!" She shakes her head to clear it. "You really bit  _ twelve  _ people and that's why I could never have anything I wanted?"

It comes out more vulnerable than she wanted so she bites her tongue and shuts up. "There might have been others I don't know about," he admits quietly. "Are you… are you mad?"

"No," she returns, getting on her feet. "No. Yes. No. You know what, I- yes. I don't know. I think I'll go back."

He gets up as well. "Take care. Really."

_ Fuck you _ , she almost says.  _ I wouldn't have to take care if not for you _ . "Yes. Uh. I'll go. Just- whatever."

She almost runs back to the tower.

* * *

"You don't drink usually," Sam points out, sitting down on a chair like a normal person instead of lying down on the table with a bottle of vodka.

She continues staring up. "You ever wonder what would have happened if the vampire plague never happened?"

"Honestly," he remarks. "For me, probably nothing great. Why?"

"What did you wanna be?" she insists. "Come on, you must have had some idea."

"I don't know, I kind of wanted to do social work," Sam says. "Teaching or something with teenagers. Barely got my degree before there were other issues, though."

"I wanted to work," she says. "I wanted to have a family. I wanted  _ everything _ . And instead I got  _ this. _ "

"Oh," Sam remarks. "So you're doing self-pity. No, thanks, I really don't drink."

She snorts, rolling onto her side. "Can I tell you something without you accusing me of Stockholm syndrome or some bullshit?"

Sam snorts. "I'm not accusing you. I do feel obliged to point out potential biases you might have, though. But go on, I won't judge you."

"I kinda empathize with him," she admits. "But I wanna kill him  _ so bad _ ."

Sam grins. "Okay. What's the occasion?"

"He literally infected all of Russia," she states. "Can you imagine? None of us would be here for any of this. It might be- not fairytales and pony parties but  _ good.  _ Calm. We wouldn't have to  _ do this _ ."

"Totally fair to be mad about that," Sam acknowledges. "I should just point out that killing him now won't really change that and thus might not feel as satisfying as you hope. But, I mean, I'm not going to stop you."

She snorts, turning on her back again. "Yeah, I know. I can't, either. But  _ man _ ."

"You'll figure it out," Sam assures her. "I'd also prefer being a street worker or something, but I guess you just have to deal with whatever comes your way. Can't dodge a vampire epidemic, to quote Fury."

She snorts, sitting up. "Oh yeah. Can't dodge an epidemic."


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New character! Also, going to the club (sort of).

"I know it sounds weird," she remarks. "But it almost seemed like he felt  _ bad  _ about it."

Fury sits there, watching her with one eye, not moving, not reacting. "It's weird because that's just what vampires do, bite others," she explains. "But still. And not in a suave acting way, kinda clumsy actually. He seemed really uncomfortable."

"Okay." Fury takes out a cigarette. "But most of all, we have more time, right?"

She nods. "I don't know how long, though. Or what to do with that time."

"There's only two options." He leans back. "Either you get him to our side or you kill him. That easy. And it's going to be your call."

"Our side?" she questions. "He's still a vampire. What's he supposed to do on our side?"

"Lie about us to Schmidt so we can continue undisturbed," Fury suggests. "Help us take out the Castle. You know what, Schmidt is probably going to come after us one way or the other, so we could really use that. We're still probably all going to die but might be worth it, if we can get enough of them."

"That's crazy," she points out as someone knocks on the door.

"Living in a world with these creatures is crazy," Fury returns. "Yes?"

"Hi everyone," Tony remarks, ripping the door open. "Just letting you know Brucey and I have a tentative theory that might potentially maybe work. That's all. Thought you'd want to know."

"Theory about what?" Natasha questions.

"About how to turn a vampire back into a human," Tony replies self-evidently. "Don't you know that? Oh, right, you never attend dinner."

"And how do you test your wobbly good-for-nothing theory?" Fury probes.

"Oh yeah, we need vampire blood," Tony adds. "That would be great. Uncontaminated by silver, otherwise it's worthless."

"How are we supposed to get you clean vampire blood?" Natasha asks back. "Really. Am I supposed to ask him for a blood donation?"

"You'll figure something out, Romanoff," Tony replies confidently and pulls the door. "Okay, that's it. Bye."

The door slams shut. Fury rolls his eye. "I swear to God, if he weren't so brilliant…"

* * *

"Your black cloak- we really should give him a name," Tony says. "Steve. Let's call him Steve."

"Steve?!" Pepper repeats in horror. "Why Steve? Let's call him Mister Rosenkranz, like my horrible biology teacher. No offence, Bruce."

"Dracula," Clint suggests sourly.

"I see you're all taking this very seriously," Natasha remarks.

"Nosferatu," Sam adds. "Or Varney."

"Wilson, that sounds utterly ridiculous," Tony remarks. "Even worse than Steve."

"You don't know Varney the Vampire?" Sam questions. "Man, you're really lacking in Victorian era gothic horror stories."

"He didn't give you a name?" Bruce asks.

Natasha snorts, filling her bowl with soup again. "I don't think he  _ knows  _ his name."

"Come on," Sam remarks. "Don't make me feel bad for him."

"The Winter Soldier," Pepper suggests. "Because he looks like he froze to death. And because Natasha believes he was actually an American POW."

A moment of silence. "Pep, my dear cupcake," Tony says. "You always have the best ideas."

Pepper snorts. "It's easy to do better than  _ Steve _ ."

"But he's out of town, right?" Clint asks. "As far as we know."

"Didn't say when exactly he was going, but yeah, around now," Natasha confirms. "Made me promise to stay safe, too. Sound familiar?"

"Oh my God!" Tony exclaims. "Nope. I don't wanna hear that gross weird super creepy monster flirting."

"Look, she's of no use to him when she's dead," Sam argues. "Or to anyone, for that matter. I think you're reading too much into that."

"Right before that, he admitted he's at fault for everything going to shit," Natasha adds. "Just something to keep in mind."

"We shouldn't forget about Schmidt," Fury reminds her. "But yes."

* * *

She goes on two more patrols with Pepper where nothing happens, really. They don't cross the river again. Not to placate anyone, just because they don't feel like experiencing that again. Doesn't do much good either. The castle guards kill undesired vampire fledglings in their territory, too.

The new recruit arrives some day. Natasha misses her at first. Pepper takes her out to familiarize herself with the city. Natasha is kinda disappointed she missed them, but there will be another opportunity. Learning the city takes a few weeks.

When she hears their chittering, returning just before the sun goes down, she realizes she has been just sitting there waiting for them. As if she has nothing better to do. But she has nothing better to do. She jumps up to appear busy somehow, something in the kitchen, open a cupboard- "Oh, there she is," Pepper's friendly voice says. "Natasha Romanoff. She's a tracker as well."

A blonde woman emerges, pretty but quite unremarkable. Natasha turns as if surprised. "Oh, hey. I'm Sharon. So you're the one from Russia."

Natasha extends a hand awkwardly. "And you're from Munich."

"Britain, actually, family-wise," Sharon specifies. "But they needed a tracker in Munich, so I spent some time there. And now I'm needed here, it seems."

It occurs to her that this might be her replacement, should the thing with the black cloak go wrong. Does Fury actually trust her? "I think we can use anyone," Pepper replies. "As I told you, the Castle alone is at least 30 plus some hunting parties. And the black cloak."

"Oh, right." Sharon leans on the kitchen counter, watching Natasha rummage awkwardly through the cutlery drawer. "Fury told me. So you really talked to him."

Natasha snorts loudly. "Guy's an asshole."

"Huh," Sharon remarks. "That sounds remarkably human."

Oh great, that one too. "Monsters can be assholes, too. Don't discriminate."

Sharon laughs. "Okay, okay. Well, it's very intriguing anyway. I guess we could learn a lot from that."

"Or we could all die," Natasha suggests sourly, inwardly beating herself up because she can't just have a nice normal conversation.

"We're going to work it out," Pepper says. "Anyway, I guess we should check whether you have everything in your room."

"Yeah, good idea," Sharon agrees, pushing up. "See you, Natasha. Nice to meet you."

* * *

She waits in an abandoned club where from 1990 on, they played rock music until the vampires came. The posters are still on the wall, though the red leather is ripped and torn. It's windowless for the most part, but the vampire still finds her.

She has brought a beer, just because. "Do I really smell that strongly?"

He shrugs, sitting down across from her. "I'm used to looking for you. Anything special about this place, for you?"

"I wasn't even in this city before the virus," she reminds him. "No. But it seems you don't want to talk to me when other people are around, so I figured here was safe."

"I don't want them shooting at me," he replies.

"No, I told them," she explains. "They're not excited but I don't think they'd try to kill you upfront."

He scoffs. "Yeah, sure. And they totally believe you, right?"

She bares her teeth, forcing him to do the same. "Can you blame them? So, you got more time?"

"Yeah," he confirms, looking around with interest. "Two moons. But he doesn't want to wait more than that."

That's actually a lot. "Did it hurt asking?"

"No," he replies. "You just have to agree in the next two months."

"No intention of doing that," she replies.

"No, it's really only two months," he repeats. "Then it's you or your friends again. You're not getting out of that."

She bares her teeth again. "You won't kill my friends."

"Yes, I will," he returns.

"No, you won't," she returns. "I won't agree and you won't kill them. That's just how it is."

He leans back, studying her. "Did that hurt?" she asks.

"No," he replies. "I guess- I don't know."

"So you lied to him that I was maybe still going to decide," she remarks. "And now you're thinking about disobeying his direct order, and none of that does anything to you."

"It's not comfortable," he admits. "But… yeah, I guess. I can't say I really believed…  _ man,  _ you are stubborn."

"Ain't seen nothing yet," she comments. "Beer?"

"No, thanks," he replies. "Alcohol tastes weird to me."

"But you do drink," she points out. "Only blood? What about food?"

"Is this an interrogation?" he asks. "Drinking yes, though only blood and water, but no eating."

"So the output of your body is only liquid, not solid," she remarks. "Right?"

He looks amused. "If you wanna know that exactly… yeah, I piss, but I don't take shits. Though I don't see why you care."

"Just curious," she replies. "What about breathing? You do breathe."

"I need air to talk," he explains. "Without talking, I breathe less frequently, maybe two or three times an hour, never really measured. But I still need air."

"So I could drown a vampire," she suggests. "Or smother him."

He snorts. "If you smother him for half an hour, yeah, I guess."

"You know what, let's try that," she replies, pulling out a watch. "You hold your breath, I stop the time."

"But then I can't talk," he reminds her. "You really want us to sit around quietly for a solid twenty to thirty minutes?"

"Yes," she repeats.

He rolls his white eyes. "Fine. Say when."

She looks at the clock. "Okay. Just a little- now."

All scientific curiosity aside, this turns out to be a bad idea as soon as she looks up. He's staring at her. She can look at the watch briefly, she can look around briefly, but mostly, she really can just stare back, and that's awkward as hell.

From close up, he looks a lot more human. She can see the grey in his white eyes that might once have been blue or green. His skin looks less solid white, more shades, she can see veins and blood shining through his cheeks. Somehow, he has more of an expression up close. She clears her throat and checks the watch. Oh, great, that's barely a minute.

She can see that he was handsome once, chiseled jaw, cheekbones, the soft curve of his lips that is now distorted by the fangs. She really wonders who he was. Before. There's a vulnerability there, too, in how his eyes occasionally flit down and away but always return. Her lips open but she has nothing to say. Man. She takes the beer and jugs some.

He's watching her, she's watching him. She checks the watch again. His eyes must have been pretty, too. Maybe he was a real heartthrob, before the war. Before they made him this. She feels anger.

Three minutes. Another sip of beer. She's actually not particularly fond of beer, of the taste. With vodka, you can disinfect pretty solidly, just alcohol, no frill, but beer has none of that. She opens her mouth to tell him but having a one-sided conversation again would only make it more awkward. After she told him her life story last time. So she stares at him again.

She's beginning to like his face. Sometimes, he looks annoying, arrogant, cold but not right now, quite the opposite. Now he looks like a person, with flaws, vulnerabilities, all of that. With personality. She could climb deeper and deeper into that. Her hand comes up to place a fingertip on his cheek, cool, like a stone, but-

His facial expression turns to amused but she's in too deep already, putting another finger on his cheek, really, it feels cold and hard at first but once she keeps it there for a second, his skin grows warmer to her touch, more and more, until she can't tell the difference anymore. She presses her palm to his cheek, cupping it, but that's really too much, so she sorta half draws back. "Just- just wanted to know what it felt like." Which would be more believable if she would take all of her fingers away but she doesn't want to, feels like she has to rip them away, rubs them with the other hand. They don't feel colder than before, and she's hot all over. "Feels- feels cold. But warms to the- to the touch, I guess."

He still looks smug but she can also see the open vulnerability in his eyes now. "Weird," she feels obliged to add, a little more distance between them in every sense, and his eyes startle slightly.

She rubs her hand still, picking up the bottle of beer again. Man. She's hot. "Come on," he says. "I wanna know what your skin feels like, too."

This is so godforsakenly awkward. She startles slightly when his cold fingers touch her hand, then her cheek, but again, they warm up very quickly to her temperature, which is way too high. He looks intrigued, leaning towards her, fingertips trailing over her cheek. "When was the last time you touched a human?" she breathes.

He frowns, fingers still working on her cheek. "Those twelve people I turned, I guess. Your skin is so warm, it feels like I'm welded to it, like I can't remove-"

"Careful," she interrupts, because she remembers he has claws.

He pulls the fingers back briefly but goes right back to work, whole palm cupping her cheek. She sighs involuntarily at the coldness that is gone almost immediately. His body reacts to hers. "Boy," he mutters with his beautiful mouth. "You smell good."

That should ring the alarm bells but it doesn't, she's stuck in his eyes, his hand, his face, even his voice. He strokes her cheek, his fingers feeling softer now, indistinguishable from a human hand. She can stare at him while his pretty eyes watch her cheek. She licks her lips unconsciously. His nostrils flare.

His elbow knocks against the beer bottle and she's too slow, they both startle when it shatters to pieces on the floor, shards of glass and liquid splattering around. It stinks immediately. She stares down, trying to get out of the trance. No glass stuck in her leg. No blood. Good. Her left cheek still burns.

"Oh sorry," his voice says. "Think I cut you."

She touches her cheek, dazed, looks at her fingers. Oh. Blood. Wait. Fuck. Blood. She scrambles for something to cover, tissue, band aid, she can't run around smelling like  _ this-  _ "Don't worry," he says, licking over his claw. "Mhm. You still taste of vampire blood."

She presses a tissue to the scratch on her cheek. It's really just a little bit of blood. A little bit of blood is enough to get you killed, though. "So that doesn't affect you either. The smell of blood."

"No, it does," he replies. "But I'm not hungry. Don't worry, I'm not going to jump you."

"Did you kill someone?" she asks. "Recently?"

"I drank from someone," he explains. "But I didn't kill him. I don't have to suck them dry."

"So you're just running around like a giant mosquito," she remarks.

He snorts. "If you wanna call it that. I should get you home though, not safe running around alone with a cut."

"I need vampire blood," she interrupts, pulling out a vial. "Couldn't get by any over the last weeks."

He looks at the glass vial critically. "You know you shouldn't do that. No one knows what the side effects are."

"You don't tell me what to do," she returns, uncorking the vial. "Come on. Just a little."

He sighs, pressing a sharp claw into one finger, holding it over the vial, dark blood dripping down. "You're really reckless."

"Yeah, I get that a lot," she remarks, checking the tissue. Not bleeding much anymore. "Do I still smell that good?"

"Wasn't talking about your blood," he replies, squeezing the digit so more blood drips down. "You give off other smells, too. Sweat and all that. Right now, I mostly smell the bloody tissue."

"My sweat smells good?" she questions.

"Your smell changes all the time," he explains. "Based on how you feel. It's the skin and the sweat and the blood and- it's complex, I don't really know how to describe it."

"So you can read my thoughts," she states.

He snorts, squeezing the finger again. "Definitely can't read your thoughts. It's really not psychic. You can tell how people feel based on how they look, I can tell based on how they smell. Scared. Most of the time, they're scared. Fear smells pretty strongly."

"That's enough, thanks," she says, corking the vial and putting it away. "So some emotions smell stronger than others?"

"Yeah," he agrees, licking over the cut in his own finger. "Adrenaline smells pretty strongly, too. I guess those are the main ones. Obviously, humans don't tend to experience the full range of emotions in my presence, so maybe that skews it."

She spits into the tissue, rubbing it over the cut again. "Sounds more like hormones or pheromones or whatever. Okay, I think we should go."

"The beer smells pretty strongly, too," he remarks, getting up. "I'll walk you home."

That sounds utterly ridiculous but she'll allow it. Before she has a hunting party on her back. She leaves the beer bottle but makes sure to take the tissue and the vial. They walk through the tunnel-like hall, down the stairs. "Remember when you bled all over Old Town Square?" he asks.

She bares her teeth, forcing him to do the same. "You mean when you almost murdered me?"

"I didn't- Could you stop doing that?" he complains. "That's really uncomfortable."

She bares her teeth again. "Why? Don't like being reminded that you're a monster?"

"Just let me talk," he says, forcing the instinctual reaction down. "Really."

"Okay, fine," she relents. "Yes. Remember very well."

"I think every vampire in this town knows your smell by now," he remarks. "So really, you can just drop that bloody tissue in the trash."

She stops. "Wait. You're telling me every vampire in this town knows how to find me?"

He snorts. "You think I follow you around because I'm bored and your life is oh so interesting?"

"No need to get mean," she returns. "Also, you just slept for 50 years, if I remember correctly, so don't talk to me about  _ boring _ ."

"Not 50 years on end, but yeah," he replies. "Point taken. What I'm saying is, if you don't want to get hurt, forget about the tissue and instead don't get on the Malá Strana again."

"I don't take advice from you," she reminds him. "Or I would already be a bloodthirsty monster with fangs."

He sighs. "Oh right. Because nothing can be  _ easy  _ with you."

* * *

"That should be enough, right?" she asks, dangling the vial. Bruce takes it with clear surprise.

"Don't tell me you made a blood pact with that monster," Tony remarks, pointing vaguely at her face without looking up. "Yeah, thanks. The centrifuge first, right?"

"Shut up, I just didn't see that branch," she returns. "It's fine. Got home safe."

"I can take a look at it," Bruce offers, filling the blood from the vial into smaller vials. "Just a second."

"No, really, just a scratch," she repeats, crossing her arms. "So? Is it working?"

"What?" Tony asks incredulously. "You want a result right now? Don't make me laugh, Romanoff."

She rolls her eyes, turning impatiently. "Fine. I'll go to bed now."

* * *

She's just gearing up to go out a few days later when she notices Tony unfurling on the sofa like a really lazy cat. "Mhm. Oh hey. So, I should tell you, despite our infinite wisdom, the theory didn't quite pan out. But we still have vampire blood, so we can continue working on that."

She breathes out. "Oh. Okay."

"You didn't really expect everything to go right on the  _ first try _ ," Tony remarks incredulously. "This is a really complex problem. We're  _ years  _ from coming even close to understanding what the fuck is going on with these monsters."

"No, no, I get that," Natasha replies unconvincingly. "Sure. You're right. I'll just, I'll just head out."

"You're not on shift," Tony points out. "Aren't you, you know, on your period? Pep said… Sure you should go out?"

She breathes out again. "It's going to be fine, Tony. Really." And she flees the tower again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The staring-at-a-stranger-quietly-for-minutes thing is from an experiment where strangers ask each other intimate questions and then quietly stare into each others eyes for several minutes, which is supposed to make them fall in love. I haven't tried it but I'm sure the awkwardness and vulnerability and openness would help with bonding.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Action! Of the different kind. And the traditional kind.

"Are you hurt?" he asks.

She blushes. "No, no. Cut healed cleanly. It's just- that time of the month. I may be sterilized but I still get my period."

They are walking alongside the Vltava in Holešovice. Not a pretty neighborhood if you don't want to get into the parks leading to the Castle. He sniffs. "Wow. I really smell that."

She snorts. "Come on. That's creepy."

"Sorry," he replies. "Can't change it, though. So we should probably get somewhere indoors."

"Don't wanna take on a hunting party?" she asks. "That would be fun. Haven't been in a fight in a while."

"They're allies," he remarks. "I shouldn't bother them more than I have to."

"You're boring," she accuses. "Let's cross over. I know a place."

* * *

She always liked Karlín, the old townhouses, streets lined with trees, art nouveau architecture. It would be even prettier without vampires, if the cafés and bars could open longer, people would sit outside more, all that. If everyone didn't look scared.

The apartment is on the highest floor, including a balcony and all. Not very useful now. The couple who lived here moved out quite orderly, leaving the big pieces of furniture behind. It seems a little like they're just on a very long holiday.

"You know, I've been wondering," she remarks, casually placing her guns and knives on the table. "Does Schmidt actually have red skin?"

"Oh yeah." He looks around, the empty nails where photos must have hung, maybe even art. "He does."

"Creepy," she finds. "What about Zola?"

"No." He walks to the window. "It was just the very first version, I think. I don't know."

"Why did they even send you to recruit me?" she asks. "No offense, but you're not exactly convincing."

He snorts. "I'm reliable. I do as I'm told. The- what did you call it- the mind control works better on some than on others. Don't ask me why."

"So they're worried this might go off the rails?" she asks. "Why?"

"Someone else might have already drunk you," he replies. "Everything that's not just murdering people is a delicate mission. Some have less control over their urges."

She snorts. "Oh, great. You were the most boring, controlled, sophisticated vampire they could find."

"I was told not to hurt you," he says, turning around. "And I don't want to. I like you, actually."

"You don't want to drink my blood?" she asks, walking over. "Honestly. Come on, you smell it."

"Wouldn't mind a little sip, to be perfectly honest," he admits. "But I really don't want to hurt you. I promised."

"That wouldn't turn me," she clarifies. "Really? You could stop after just a little?"

He grins, fangs shining golden. "Is that an offer?"

"Fuck off," she returns. "No."

He shrugs, unimpressed. "That's too risky for you suddenly? But injecting vampire blood was totally okay?"

"I stopped," she points out. "And I didn't grow fangs or claws, so what. Though I… I felt like I could smell better. Maybe I was getting some vampire senses."

"Possible," he admits. "After all, nobody knows all of the effects."

"It didn't heal the scars, though," she tells him. "Wounds were gone quickly but the scars stayed."

"The virus doesn't care about scars," he explains. "No impact on function. So no, those never go away."

"You have a lot?" she asks.

He snorts. "Come on. Don't make me take off my shirt."

She steps back and reaches for the biteguard around her neck. "I can go first."

He looks intrigued. "Sure you wanna take off the armor?"

"I won't smell _more_ of blood," she points out, unclasping the biteguard and reaching for the zipper that was underneath. "Deal?"

"Okay," he breathes. "Deal."

She pulls the zipper unceremoniously down to the belt with the red hourglass, pulling the arms from the plated sleeves. She's pale, too. Not like she spends her days lying on the beach. She shows him her forearms, with all the scars. "We didn't have the carbon fibre and the kevlar at the beginning. Got scratched a lot."

"You went out there to fight vampires without proper protection?" he asks, staring at the pale skin and the even paler scars. "You could've _died_."

"Yeah, no shit," she returns. "Wasn't fun, bleeding and then having to deal with vampires in a blood frenzy. Yeah, I've really been doing this for a long time. Uh, that one's from when they cut open my belly to take out the uterus. That one, I actually got shot. Accident."

He unties the black cloak. "You're insane."

"Fuck off," she repeats, uncomfortable feeling broiling in her belly. "Not my fault."

"You could've _stopped_ ," he suggests, opening straps on his leather jacket. "Not like you owed anyone anything."

"While the world was going to shit?" she questions. "Hell no."

He pulls the jacket open. She's not prepared for how bad his left arm really looks, the metal forced in, red red lines on white skin. And the red bite. It looks worse than just a scar, somehow alive. He pulls the black shirt over his head, too.

His entire chest is covered in scars, both faint and strong. She takes a deep breath. "What _happened_ to you?"

He doesn't put the shirt down, sort of self-consciously hiding behind it. "We train. Fight. It's brutal."

"I can see that," she mutters, fingers darting forward carefully. "Can I- mind if I-"

"Please," he blurts out, fisting the shirt. "It's- he says he only wants the strong ones to survive. The others are useless."

"Kill or be killed," she mutters, finger tracing over the white cold hard line that gives in under her touch. "I'm sorry. That- he really is a monster."

He snorts softly, pushing the shirt off his wrists. "Thanks. Uh- that kinda tickles."

"Seriously?" she questions, pressing her entire palm to his scarred abs. "You're _ticklish_?"

"What about it," he replies. "I'm not dead, for the umpteenth time."

"You're cold like it, though," she remarks, pressing her other palm to his cold hard chest. "How does that feel, other than warm?"

"Honestly," he says. "Pretty nice."

His chest has warmed up to her by now. She takes the hand away, then touches again. Still warm. The scars look really fucking bad, though. "So you're one of the strong ones."

"For now," he whispers. "Yeah."

"And the…" She kicks the black cloak on the floor. "That one. That doesn't help?"

"It's just a cloak," he says. "He's trying to develop better vampires, stronger, faster. If I can't keep up, if I'm no longer useful… I guess that would be it."

"He's using you," she whispers, leaning in. "You're just a disposable tool to him."

He doesn't reply before her lips touch his, cold for just a second, she feels the fangs pressing through but it doesn't really bother her, weirdly enough, he kisses her back and she grips his chest, fingers digging in. He's warm now, alive. She opens her mouth, swiping her tongue over his beautiful lips, over the fang, cold and smooth gold, carefully over the tip, his hands come to her hips, very careful. His tongue comes out and tangles with hers. Her fingers dig in even harder, soft skin, but then she pulls back to catch a breath. His eyes flutter open. "What are you doing?" he rasps out.

"Shut up," she whispers, leaning back in and kissing him again. Now he's really warm and soft, she might be mistaken but he smells differently, no more old book, his fingers dig into her hips, release and dig in again, more carefully. She strokes the scars on his chest, finds the warmth has spread out, even where she didn't touch him before. She touches his cheek, warm-

Something _buzzes_ , loud, they both startle, jumping apart, it buzzes again, at her belt, her phone, fucking phone-

"Well," she remarks. "This is awkward."

He clears his throat, lips swollen. "Maybe- maybe you should pick up."

She fumbles around, the top of the suit is hanging over the belt. Buzzes. She gets it out finally, flips it open. "Yes? What the fuck is it?"

"Are you okay?" Bruce's voice asks. "Your pulse literally disappeared."

"My-" The fucking tracker. "Yeah, yeah, I'm okay. Just- just rolled the sleeve up, I guess."

"You what?" Tony asks loudly. "Why? What about the one in the collar?"

She groans quietly, closing her eyes, pinching her nose. "I'm fine. Really."

"What are you _doing_ ," Tony inquires. "Your vitals are doing some weird shit. Are you running?"

The- still no name- he has picked up his shirt and put it on again, though not the jacket. "Get out of my fucking business," she demands. "Okay? Everything's alright. I'll hang up now."

"Okay," Bruce says. "Just get home safely. Stay safe."

She hangs up, rolling her eyes. "Oh man."

"They're monitoring you?" he asks.

"They thought tracking me would make me safer or something," she remarks, fumbling with the sleeves. "Guess I should put that back on."

"Yeah, probably," he agrees. "Uh, not to be awkward, but what was that all about?"

"No, no, no," she interrupts, fiddling into the rigid sleeve. "Don't make me- My pulse will go up again and then I'll get another fucking call."

He grins, picking up the jacket. "Okay. Whatever."

"What do I call you, though?" she asks, zipping the suit up. "Got a name for me?"

He shrugs. "Don't really care. Whatever you want."

"Someone suggested Steve," she offers.

He snorts. "That sounds wrong."

"Well, what doesn't?" she asks.

He studies her, jacket in hand. "James," he offers finally.

"James, then," she decides, fixing her ponytail up again. Why is she so dishevelled? "I guess you already know everything about me, right?"

"Yeah, sure," he replies sarcastically, peeling himself back into the leather jacket. "That you're a really horrible person and all."

"Are you fucking with me?" She snorts, gathering up her guns. "Come on. I've done some shit."

"Not disputing that," he states. "You're leaving?"

"Guess I should," she replies. "Before they get all worked up again."

"Sounds annoying," he remarks. "Yeah, I guess- I don't know what to say. Guess I'll see you around."

"Yeah," she agrees, sheathing her knives as well. "If you keep following me around, sure."

* * *

"I still find it creepy," Clint remarks. "I mean, I trust you and I don't think you're dumb or gullible or anything, but it's just… weird."

They're sitting on a roof again, looking out over the city and the river. "I get that," she replies. "I don't like that he helped start a global vampire outbreak either."

Clint snorts. "Putting it mildly. And then you're just gone, I really thought, when I heard…"

"Not my fault if the suit malfunctions," she returns. "I was safe, really."

"Because of the extension?" Clint asks.

"More than that," she replies. "It's… Fury wants to get him on our side. Don't say Stockholm but… I really think I'm getting somewhere."

He opens his mouth but closes it again carefully. "Are you… sure?"

"He literally said mind control," she tells him. "He told me about Schmidt and the horrible structure, the torture and the experiments. Not in detail but… It really _scarred_ him. I can work with that."

"I mean," Clint acknowledges. "I understand if he wants to get away from the evil vampire overlord. I wouldn't trust him, though."

She snorts. "Why do you trust me, then? Because I kill vampires? He kills vampires too. The ones he's told to kill, but maybe we could get him to kill others, too. Like the ones in the Castle."

Clint grins. "You're insane. That's why I trust you."

"Just imagine," she suggests. "Wiping out the Castle. Battling back the black cloaks and Schmidt's forces. Taking out Schmidt."

"Seems a little too ambitious," Clint remarks. "But alright, your call. It's still creepy to think he might be around _right now_."

"I don't know how close he is," she says. "Should test that sometime. I mean, I don't like it either but it's helpful."

"Are you _sure_ you don't like it?" Clint asks slowly.

"Yes," she replies perplexed. "Of course. Why?"

"Doesn't always seem like it," he says carefully. "With all your running around alone at night. You kinda like him, don't you."

"Liking him makes it easier," she whispers. "But I don't like everything he _does_. I don't have to, either."

"Your business," Clint states. "You should just be honest to yourself about what you're doing and why."

"Fair," she acknowledges. "Something else, what do you think about the new girl? I didn't get to go on patrol with her yet, so I don't really know."

"She's good," he admits. "She has a different approach, with a lot of research and all, while you seem to do everything on instinct. Maybe you'd complement each other. Fury just doesn't want to send you out together yet because she doesn't know the city and you're kinda _distracted_ sometimes."

"I've really been doing this forever," she repeats. "There was no _research_ back then. Just a bunch of vets with Kalashnikovs."

"Didn't you have a _sword_?" Clint asks.

"Yeah," she confirms. "Helped with the beheading part. Knife just isn't heavy enough. That was cool, actually, maybe I should get one again."

"You're really insane," Clint repeats. "God help us all."

* * *

"So," Sharon asks. "What's he _like_?"

Natasha almost cuts into her finger. Damn carrots. "I don't know. Normal."

"Normal?" Sharon repeats. "In what way?"

This is why she doesn't have friends. She can't cook either. Sam can cook and _everyone_ likes him. "I don't know. I can talk to him normally, I guess. Not like I have to be careful or anything."

"You have weird standards," Sam remarks. "Uh, could you cut them a little smaller?"

"Is he funny?" Sharon inquires.

Weird question. "Annoying, mostly. Kinda smug? I don't know. He's okay."

"Could you wash the coleslaw, Sharon?" Sam asks. "Thanks."

The kitchen is a little small for three people but alright. "Yeah, sure," Sharon agrees. "Sorry. I'm just really curious. Nobody ever had longer encounters with a black cloak and lived to tell the tale."

"He's-" She hesitates but says it anyway. "He's more human than the fresh vampires. More in control. He doesn't just drop into a blood frenzy at the drop of a pin."

"I would certainly hope so," Sam remarks. "Drop of a hat, by the way."

The water is turned on. "Does he like you?" Sharon asks with curiosity.

Natasha snorts. "Guess so. Which is good, I guess."

"If it keeps him from murdering you and us all," Sam states. "Then yeah, definitely."

* * *

"I feel like I'm discussing with a teenager," Tony says. "No. Come on, you're breaking Brucey's heart."

"I'm not wearing that thing again," she repeats, arms crossed. "You have no right to stalk me. Also, it clearly gives false alarms all the fucking time."

" _Once_ ," Tony emphasizes. "And I still think that was on you somehow. You always pretend you're that mysterious and interesting but really, you're not. So no need to get on such a high horse about your privacy."

"The tracker would be really helpful," Bruce interjects uncomfortably. "In case… you know. We could put it somewhere else, I guess. If it bothers you in the suit."

"Not going down that road," Tony protests. "No way."

"No more vitals?" she asks. "Just the GPS?"

"Yes," Bruce confirms. "If that's what you want."

She drops her arms. "Okay. Put it in the phone. Can you do that, Stark, or do I have to do it myself?"

"I'll get the suit," Bruce announces, leaving the room.

Tony takes her phone but not his eyes off her. "You're up to something. And I don't like it."

"Fuck off," she returns. "You can't even do the vampire cure."

"Yeah, can you?" he challenges. "Didn't think so. But oh, I forget, you're the _Black Widow_."

"Do _not_ go there," she hisses. "You don't know _shit_ about that."

"I would never," Tony states provocatively calmly. "Your judgment is clearly impeccable. Undoubtable."

Bruce returns, thankfully, as always completely unaware of the atmosphere in the room. "There's the tracker. I'll take out all the measuring devices now."

"Thanks, boys," she says with a sneering undertone. "I'll grab a beer in the meantime."

* * *

"You wanted a fight," he- James states. "I got you a fight."

"Oh, so _now_ we're taking on the hunting party?" she asks. "Where?"

He snorts. "Still no. A nest moved in from South. If we're quick, we'll get them before the Castle does."

"I like that," she admits. "You're gonna jump around like crazy again? I'm in. I saw you on my last patrol, by the way. Don't think I didn't just because I didn't say anything."

"It's quicker," he offers. "If you wanna, you know."

She steps up to him. "Cuddle up to you?"

"I'll literally never get you to do _anything,_ will I," he remarks.

"Hey." She pulls a face. "I stopped taking vampire blood. Not for you, though, I admit."

He rolls his eyes, putting his left hand on her shoulder. "Okay. Hold on. Really hold on, I can't catch you."

She grabs one of the straps of his jacket, wrapping the other arm around his torso. "Okay. Ready."

He jumps and suddenly they're on the roof of the building, just briefly before taking off again, cutting through the cold night air, cloak flaring behind them. She's starting to feel nauseous when another building approaches and they're going down down down, but he barely lands before he drags her up in the air again. It's heady. She turns her head and stares up at the night sky, the moon, the clouds, the few stars.

They land in a more suburban part of the city, rows of houses, big squares, lots of green. Everyone has a garden. Her legs almost give out and she giggles. "Oh. You know, I kinda like that. Flying."

"It's exhausting," he says. "Makes me hungry."

Maybe she could give him a little today. Just a little. "So, how many? Where?"

"Two," he replies. "I don't know. We'll have to track them down. Careful, though, they have UV lights around here."

"I can do that," she says. "Just a second to get used to gravity again."

"Take your time," he states. "Do you have the tracker still? Will they think you're dying again?"

"Got rid of it," she replies. "GPS in my phone, but I can get rid of that if necessary. Oh, I'll put it on silent."

"Okay," he says. "Then we should be good."

"Yeah," she agrees. "Okay, I'm ready. I'll go first."

There's lots of shadows around here, some moving. It's actually less quiet than in the city center, people talking indoors, laughing loudly. Not every window locked with wood. Seems to be a good place for young families. If they stay in at night.

She catches their trail around a park, following it the hill down past a church. Nice place to live. Turn right. Where would vampires hide around here? Turn left. No, that seems wrong. Up the hill again. She almost startles when she notices the black cloak behind her, but she really shouldn't be surprised. She's on edge. Somewhere around-

She takes out the knife, waiting. Here. Somewhere here. She just has to place-

Rustling leaves.

She slips into the abandoned garden, holding her breath. They must smell her. Tries to make out in the dark-

Flashing teeth. She jumps back, barely escaping the woman's claws. Cuts after her with her knife. The vampiress hisses. They clash, knife dropping to the ground.

She's not a young vampire, already in control of her strength, her body. She kicks and claws, bites and hits. Natasha knocks her back, scanning her surroundings. Two. Must be two. The woman grabs her, throwing her against a tree. Natasha twists her hand before she can claw at her, making her howl. Kicks her knee. The woman staggers back, fleeing over the fence.

Knife. She jumps over the fence as well, following, another fence, she can hear her moving- She ducks and the vampire misses her, elbows him, grunt, slashes across his face, arm, bleeding slows them, he catches her arm but she snaps her knee up. The vampiress returns and Natasha shoots at her, missing the heart. The vampire throws her to the ground, kicking, she catches his foot and uses his force to twist him down. She's back up and hits the woman, knife, sinks it into her shoulder. Whips around and kicks the guy in the face. The woman tries to push her away but she gets the garotte around her neck, pulling hard. She struggles to break free, but Natasha's stronger than she looks. When she lets go suddenly, she plunges the silver knife into her heart through until it hits the breastplate of her suit.

The other vampire is gone, fleeing down even more gardens. Natasha runs after him. Fence. Tree. Hedge. Fence. He's too fast. She takes the left, crossing the street, left again, she's faster on pavement, catches sight of him between the houses, little faster, sweeps right-

He's too slow. She knocks him down, takes the gun and shoots him in the head.

She's alone. Wait. Lost. She runs back.

There's a light that went on, movement sensor, he's rolled in on the pavement-

Shit. She skids to a stop, grabbing the black cloak and throwing it over him. His skin is red, blistered, fucking UV light. He groans. "Are you okay? Do you hear me?"

"It _burns_ ," he whispers weakly.

"I'll get you out," she promises, pulling him up a little, always making sure she blocks out the light. "Fuck these guys. Let's get you up."

He sits up, barely, another ray of light hits his face and she curses, dragging him up all the way. "Sorry. Just- quick."

It seems forever until they're out of the light. She's not even sure covering him with the black cloak is enough. His face looks really bad. "I'll take care of you," she promises. "Do you- do you have a place? Around here?"

He groans. "Spořilov."

That's not too far. They can walk that, long before the sun goes up. "I'll get you there. Just tell me where exactly. I'll get you to safety."

He really looks bad, though, and she has to steady him. And then he stops replying.


	7. Chapter 7

He's in and out. She got him to the place, his place, not much different than one of her apartments, but he hasn't opened his eyes since. She pulled all the curtains already, before the sun even comes up, and now she's sitting at the bedside, staring at the gray skin of his face dissolving.

No, she has to. She takes the knife and cuts her finger, holding it over his mouth. He twitches when the first drop of blood hits his lips. The second drop and his tongue darts out, licking it up. She presses out more. "James? You hear me?"

He groans, licking up more. "Blood."

She lowers her finger so he can lick it, then puts it into his mouth. His tongue darts over the cut again and again. "I can give you more," she whispers. "Just say it."

He nods weakly, sucking on her finger. She breathes in and takes the blade to her palm. Stings. He laps it up eagerly. His skin still looks awful, red blisters, open wounds, gray colour.

He's careful not to suck too much but she can tell he's hungry. They sit there until the sun goes up, until the cut in her palm starts closing. His head drops back, eyes closed. She should tell the others where she is, before they get worried. She texts Clint that she's fine but she won't be back soon.

He really looks bad. She's worried. She grabs a water bottle, finds she's thirsty herself and drinks before nudging his head up to do the same. Spills a lot but they work it out. "Better?" she asks quietly. "Do you want more blood?"

He groans, head dropping back, swallowing. "Don't wanna- don't wanna hurt you."

"I'm fine," she assures him. "I've got enough blood."

His nostrils flare. She takes the knife again, cutting her other palm. He laps it up greedily, tongue sliding over the wound again and again. His skin is not getting any better. Damn, she should stop worrying. When he's done, she gives him more water. He closes his eyes, head resting on the pillow, slurring his words. "I'll sleep. Don't- don't worry."

He's out so quick. She goes to the bathroom, drinks more water. No food in the apartment. She drops the blinds on the window where the sun is indirectly streaming in. She's hungry but also sick with worry. He's totally asleep, not even breathing. The skin comes off in big chunks. She dials.

"Hey?" Bruce asks. "Natasha?"

She sighs, walking over to the kitchen and closing the door behind her. "Hey. It's me."

"Are you okay?" he asks.

"Yeah, yeah." She rubs her eyes. "Me, yeah. But he- he got hit with a UV light and his skin is literally falling off and I don't know what to do."

"Is he dying?" Bruce asks.

She groans. "I don't know. Do you- do you have any idea what I could do? To help him?"

"I don't know anything about vampire medicine," Bruce replies hesitantly. "Do you have- could you do a blood transfusion? With vampire blood?"

She has some left, but that's hidden in her room in the tower. "No. I gave him some of my blood. And water."

"Be really fucking careful with that," Bruce advises. "Your health comes first. Are you at his place?"

"Yes," she replies, not thinking about the implications of whether it's really  _ his  _ place.

"Check whether he has any specific chemicals around," Bruce orders. "He'd probably know. Formaldehyde has been a theory of mine."

She digs around. There are some syringes in the fridge. Checks the label. "Yeah. Formaldehyde solution."

"You could try injecting him that," Bruce suggests. "Maybe ask him first. Is he awake?"

"Not really," she mutters, closing the fridge. "Okay, I'll try. Thank you, really."

"No problem, Natasha," Bruce replies.

She hangs up and walks over into the bedroom. His eyes open. "Oh. Found it."

She sits down on the bedside again, careful with the syringe. "Does this help?"

"Yeah," he rasps. "But I'll be fine anyway."

She snorts, staring at the skin peeling off. "You don't look fine."

"If you could-" He closes his eyes. "That would be great. Neck."

He turns his neck carefully, where the skin looks less bad. She breathes in, leaning over him. Puts her hand on first, to warm him up. He hisses slightly when the needle punctures his skin.

She caresses his hair. Her stomach's still churning. He closes his eyes. "Mhm. I'll sleep again. Don't worry, really."

He's fast asleep almost immediately. She pulls all the blinds, flooding the room in darkness, and returns to the kitchen, putting the empty syringe back. She's really hungry but she can't go out like this. Fighting suit. Vampire blood on it. She locks herself in the bathroom, dousing the suit down, then climbs under the shower herself. Tired. She's tired. Low battery. Stays under the shower really long.

She slips into the dark bedroom, trying to find a stash of clothes of some kind. Doesn't have night vision, though. She bumps into  _ something _ that drops to the ground noisefully. Fuck. The bedsheets rustle. "Mhm. Hey."

"Hey," she replies. "I'm looking for clothes."

"Left," he says. "Lower. Yeah, in there."

She pulls out something that feels like a shirt and something that feels like tactical pants. "Got it. I'll head out to get something to eat. Are you going to be okay here?"

"Yeah," he replies. "Thanks. Don't worry."

"You keep saying that, it's not really reassuring," she remarks, making her way through the darkness back to the door. "Should I get you anything? Not food but… anything?"

"No, don't think so," he states. "Maybe water, but not really."

"You still got almost a dozen bottles," she agrees. "Okay. Sleep, I'll be back soon."

* * *

The shirt is too big, which was not really a problem but looked kinda weird, and she rolled the pant legs up and tied them around the waist with her garotte. The woman in the bakery looked very suspicious of her but when she ordered with a nice fangless smile, it was okay. Kids these days. She wonders whether she looks young still.

She eats two rohlíky before she's even back, and it feels great. The bedroom is still dark. She opens the door, indirect light streaming in. He's asleep. She grabs another rohlík and sits down on the bedside. His eyelids flutter. "Mhm. Oh. You're really back."

"Where else would I be?" she asks, chewing. The skin is still coming off in gray flaps the size of her thumb, which is not very appetizing, but she's hungry. "You don't look better."

"It's better," he insists, pulling one of the skin flaps off, the new skin beneath still rosy and thin but intact. "Just have to shed the dead skin first."

"Urgh." She shudders. "I could swear I was hungry just a few seconds ago."

"Sorry." He sits up slightly. "I should let you eat. Uh, one thing though."

"I'll go over into the kitchen," she says. "Yeah?"

"When you came over, before you went out," he starts. "Did you not think I would wake up or did you just not care that I can see in the dark?"

She shrugs. "Didn't care."

"Okay." He leans back again. "Feel free to go eat. I'll… I'll deal with this."

"Thanks for reminding me," she chastises, getting to her feet. "Just what I wanted to hear before my meal."

* * *

She eats two koláčes, too, and drinks an entire bottle of juice. The cuts in her palms have formed scabs. She hears him go to the bathroom at one point but doesn't pay attention to that. The sun goes down again. He's back in bed when she returns, most of the gray gone from his skin, though it's still open at some points, crusting with dark blood. "You're really tired, aren't you."

"Yeah." He shakes his head. "You know, you really don't have to stay. I'll be fine."

"Come on," she replies, pulling the blinds up. "Like I'd be super busy otherwise."

"I should probably sleep some more," he states.

"Yeah." She walks back to the bed, sitting down. "You look better, though."

"You were really worried, weren't you?" he asks.

She snorts. "Yeah. Of course. You idiot."

"Prime chance to get rid of me," he remarks. "And you missed it."

"Didn't just miss it," she specifies. "Hit it on the head with a hammer. Smashed its skull in. Tore its heart out."

He grins, fangs peeking out. "You got him, right? The second one."

"Put a silver bullet in his skull," she says. "That usually works."

"Yeah," he agrees, head dropping back on the pillow. "Usually."

The skin is still coming off in places. She doesn't want to tear on it, though. His eyes are red and swollen. She strokes over his hair, which is remarkably soft. "You really had me worried there," she mutters. "Don't die on me. I've already lost too many."

"Won't," he whispers, pressing against her hand. "Promise."

She leans over and kisses him softly, lips cold at first but warming up quickly. Strokes his face. His fingers come to tangle in her hair, she feels the claws. She bites his lip carefully, making him groan. She swings a leg over, his hands come to her hips, she presses her entire body against him to turn the cold block of stone into a living, breathing human. It becomes hot very quickly. She likes how his body responds to her touch, how he comes alive, it arouses her. She kisses him heatedly.

He pulls her in, strong, against him, arms wrapping around her. She feels the cold metal parts. That and the fangs. Everything else is  _ human _ . She rocks against him, open-mouthed kisses, he groans again, rumbling in his throat, breathing her in constantly. His fingers dig into her back, release before the claws come into play. She pushes up slightly, catching her breath, looking down at his face. "You're not going back to Schmidt," she whispers, caressing his cheek. "You can't go back to him."

He groans, pressing her hips down against him. "I don't wanna go back. Ever."

"Come with me," she purrs, pressing little kisses to his jaw. "Join us. We'll figure it out together."

"Figure what out?" he asks. "They'll only try to kill me."

"They won't," she replies. "I promise. Please. We could get rid of Schmidt."

"He's too strong," he says. "They are too many. We'll all get killed."

She sits up. "I'd rather die than watch you go back to  _ him _ ."

He sighs, rubbing his eyes. "I can't ask that of you."

"You don't have to," she replies. "I'm a hunter. I already signed up for hunting vampires until I die."

He snorts. "Right. Great."

"They're better than you think," she says. "And if there's a chance we can get Schmidt… Everyone in their right mind would take it."

He closes his eyes. "I'm too tired for this."

"Sure, sleep," she agrees, moving off of him. "I should maybe go home, before they really start worrying. That is, if you don't need anything."

"I'm good, really," he replies. "Go home. I can take care of myself."

She pecks his lips again. "Get well soon. I'll see you."

* * *

"We're going for a run," Pepper announces. "Do you want to join us?"

She's no good at running. "Yeah. Sure. Just a second, I'll change."

Running in the evening has to be well-planned in order not to go over sundown so most people run in the morning, especially in summer when the sun comes up around four or five a.m. Still not many people, though. You can do without a lot of things when they're risky.

Sharon and Pepper look way more professional when she comes down onto the street, stretching and talking. "Oh hey," Sharon says, ponytail whipping around. "There you are. Is by the river fine?"

"Sure." She shakes her hair out, tying it together, ignoring the nervousness.

"I have to say, I quite like Prague," Sharon remarks, running off. "Everything I've seen so far."

"It's pretty run-down, though," Pepper objects. "Not like Munich, I imagine."

"I mean, it would be even nicer if they renovated some houses and the plaster wasn't peeling off everywhere," Sharon acknowledges. "But still, it has flair. History. Just the powder tower, I really like that sort of thing."

"Then it's good that you're here," Pepper concludes. "So, Nat. Bruce said you had to play nurse."

She hates running and talking. "Oh. Yeah."

"The UV lights are getting more and more common," Pepper remarks. "Especially in the wealthier neighborhoods. Maybe that will turn the tide in the long run."

"He looked  _ burnt _ ," Natasha breathes.

"Oh yeah," Sharon agrees solemnly. "Those UV beams are really effective. You have some in your suit, Pepper, right?"

"Yes," Pepper confirms. "Though they are a little too slow for a fight. There are many around the tower, though."

"Traps," Natasha remarks.

"I mean, I'm sure it's not great for  _ him _ ," Sharon relents. "Do you have a name for him, by the way?"

"Winter Soldier," Pepper supplies. "But nobody actually calls him that."

" _ James _ ," Natasha feels compelled to whisper.

"James," Pepper repeats. "And I understand if you take his side on the UV lights but we just have to keep us safe."

"I'm not taking his side!" Natasha protests.

"Yes, you are," Sharon says in the most friendly annihilating tone. "And that's okay. As long as it's not endangering us."

Natasha groans, slowing to a walk. "Could we- just slow down a bit?"

They drop in line with her, hardly increased breathing. Oh, this is worse. "You clearly have a special relationship," Sharon points out. "Unheard of. And that's very useful, potentially."

She really doesn't like this. "But your safety is still more important," Pepper stresses. "All of our safety. Don't take this the wrong way, but in the end, he's… still a vampire."

Natasha comes to an abrupt halt. "You know what, I'm going back. Not feeling well."

They exchange a knowing look, which is the worst. "Are you sure?" Pepper asks.

"Yes," Natasha returns, turning on her heel. "Don't mind me. Enjoy your run."

* * *

She doesn't react to the first knock. The second knock either. "Are you okay?" Clint's voice asks.

She groans loudly, staring at the ceiling. "Can I come in?" Clint asks.

"Just a second," she calls, blinking as if that would help. "Okay. Come in."

The door opens. Clint leans in. "So."

She groans again, sitting up, rubbing through her hair. It's a mess. It's all a mess. "You think you're making a mistake," Clint observes.

As if it were that easy. "Maybe. I don't know. Just- I think I care too much. I shouldn't. I really shouldn't."

"Yeah, well," Clint remarks. "Can't exactly turn that off."

She scoffs, pulling the sleeves over her palms, hugging her knees into her chest. He walks in, pulling the door closed. "You cut yourself, didn't you."

"He was  _ dying _ ," she hisses. "Well, maybe he wasn't, but he pretty much looked like it."

"And now you're defensive about it," Clint points out.

She groans again. If only he were  _ wrong.  _ "What about it?"

"Look, this job is merciless," he says. "And this world is merciless. So when it gives you something nice for a change, no matter how twisted… maybe you should just take it. Carefully, but take it."

"I had nice things," she remarks. "They all died."

He snorts. "Let me tell you, life is too short to let nice things pass you by. Too short not to get attached. Learned that the hard way."

"I'm sorry about Bobbi," she states.

"Don't be," he says. "I fucked that one up. Thoroughly. Not getting another chance. So don't fuck yours up, too. You don't want to end like me."

"Great advice," she remarks sarcastically. "Was there anything you wanted, other than moping?"

"We're having a strategy meeting," Clint explains. "I mean, if you wanna. It's just the fate of the city. If you'd rather mope."

She groans for the last time, swinging her legs off the bed. "Coming, coming. Gimme a second."

"Oh, yeah," Clint remarks. "You should take a second to fix your hair, too."

* * *

"Wilson and Stark spotted a hunting party around the Rieger park," Fury states, pointing on the map. "Here. Three vampires, all male. There must be a hiding place somewhere."

"Yeah," Tony interrupts, drawing a circle around. "Somewhere in this area."

"We should run recon," Pepper remarks, twisting her earlobe in concentration. "Before we engage. If we engage."

"Obviously," Fury states. "Three trained killer vampires is a big deal. We're not moving in before we've shined a light up their asses from all directions."

"The television tower is here," Clint points out. "Here's the School of Economics. Train station."

"It's really close," Sam remarks, rubbing his neck. "It bothers me we didn't spot them earlier."

"Maybe they moved," Sharon suggests. "Hunting parties do that every once in a while, to draw less attention."

"Romanoff," Fury demands. "Are you up for it?"

She doesn't feel up for it. "Yeah. Sure."

"Take Carter with you," Fury orders. "And either Barton or Wilson. You'll stake out there every night until you know their habits in and out. Don't engage. Hide your scents-"

A door slams closed somewhere above.

Everyone tenses up. There's steps, almost silent. They're hardly armed, though. The steps come closer. The black cloak sweeps down the stairs, slowly, carefully.

His skin looks better, though still crusted and red in places. He stops after the stairs. Nobody moves. His eyes hitch on her briefly, then move on around.

"Hello," he says. "I'm afraid I need your help."


	8. Chapter 8

"Hello," James says. "I'm afraid I need your help."

It's solidly silent for at least ten seconds. Nobody moves, either. Drop a pin and somebody probably gets killed. "What kind of help?" Fury asks wearily.

"I help you take out the Castle," he offers. "And you help me take out Johann Schmidt."

Fury snorts. "You don't need to motivate me to take down Schmidt, fella. But how?"

"I'll explain," he says. "If you don't shoot."

Everyone puts their weapon on the table. Sharon her gun, Sam a knife, Tony a UV beam prototype, Pepper another knife, Clint an arrow he likes to fiddle with. Fury doesn't even bother, crossing his arms instead. Bruce takes off his glasses, shaking his head.

"You've been to the Castle," she prompts to make this easier.

"Yeah." He steps to the table, staring down at the map. "There's 34 in the Castle, last time I was there. Plus three hunting parties, three each. One around the Central Station, one on Bílá Hora and one down in Barrandov. They bring in the blood to feed the Castle, so those are the most dangerous ones."

"That's a lot," Sam remarks.

"The hunting parties are not in close contact with the Castle," James continues. "If we take them out quietly, they won't notice too soon. I can get into the Castle without raising suspicion so we can take them by surprise."

Tony snorts. "You're batshit crazy."

James grins, revealing the gold-streaked fangs, wincing slightly at it. "I thought that's what you do."

"Details aside," Fury interrupts. "What's the timeline? Two months?"

"We're twenty days in," Natasha remarks, leaning her elbows on the table. "About forty left."

"Yeah," James confirms. "Then we have to deal with Schmidt."

"We take out the Castle too early, Schmidt will hear about it," Bruce argues, rubbing his chin. "We take it out too late, we have to fight on two fronts. We must plan this very carefully."

"Taking out the Castle must be planned carefully," Clint corrects. "You say that like it's a done deal, it's not. It's fucking dangerous."

"Okay, I can roughly imagine what we would have to do about the Castle," Sam states. "Even if it won't be easy, of course. But what about Schmidt?"

James sighs. "Yeah. That."

"We need to be prepared," Fury demands. "And we need to know what to prepare for."

"I don't know," James replies outright. "This has never happened before. I don't know how he will react. How hard he will react."

"Great," Tony remarks. "Just great."

"Come on," Pepper interjects. "Isn't that what we were always in for? Ending it all? Taking out the head?"

"Yeah, but not _suicide_!" Tony complains. "That's a pure Hail-Mary-"

"Stark," Sharon interrupts. "Calm down."

Tony is too perplexed to react. "Pepper's right," Sharon continues. "We're not getting out of this either. The clock's ticking. So we better prepare instead of complaining about how dangerous it is."

James looks perplexed, too. "Well, okay," Natasha suggests. "Should we do the introductions now?"

"So we're in business?" Clint questions.

"Hell yeah, we're in business," Fury states. "You take care of the niceties, I have to place a few calls."

Tony snorts as he leaves. "Oh thanks."

"Classic Fury," Natasha mutters. "Uh, yeah. So, newest first, Sharon Carter, tracker, formerly from Munich, formerly from Britain. Sam Wilson, trained parachuter, trained counsellor, oh, and trained paramedic too because why the fuck not. Bruce Banner, scientist, expert on everything biology and chemistry. Tony Stark, tinker and the most arrogant person you'll ever meet."

"Excuse me?" Tony interrupts. " _Tinker_? I didn't build you the most durable, most protective, most lightweight suit of armor that ever existed for _this_."

"Case in point," Natasha comments. "Well, Pepper Potts, really cool suit, and she's really got her shit together. Uh, Clint is in love with his bow, don't ask."

"I love you, too, Tasha," he returns. "Don't worry."

She snorts, rocking back and forth on her feet. "Yeah. So, that's the fun crew. And Fury is, well, Fury."

"Good to… officially meet you, I guess," James remarks. "I'm… I'm James."

"Is that your actual name?" Clint asks coldly.

"Cut it," Natasha advises. "We all have the same goal here."

"Oh yeah," Tony remarks innocently. "I can see _that_."

Following down every one of Tony's digs is exhausting and pointless. "Well, let's just leave it here for now," Natasha suggests. "Until next time. Uh, I'll step outside with you for a sec."

She doesn't bother looking back, what they're talking behind her back. They step outside, cold night air. Right, avoid the UV traps. "So. They didn't kill you."

He snorts. "Yeah. Kinda. Now if I wouldn't be sentencing them all to death…"

"Shut up," she returns, wrapping her arms around herself because she's just in a t-shirt. "That's not true. How's your skin, though? Looks a lot better."

"It's fine, really," he reassures her. "Thanks for dragging me out, though. I know it looked bad."

"Hella bad," she confirms. "I thought your face was falling off. Well, it was. And I liked your face."

He grins. "Oh, so now you don't?"

"Meh," she teases. "I guess it's fine."

"Oh, fuck off," he returns. "Guess I'll just walk into the next UV beam."

"Don't you fucking dare," she threatens. "Uh, I can turn them off so you can get out safely. But I guess you got in safely, too. Fury hates finding flaws in his system, by the way."

"I mean, it's not that hard when you can kinda fly," he points out. "We should figure out some solution, though. Wouldn't want any other black cloaks dropping in."

"No, not really," she agrees sourly. "I mean, there has to be some solution. Sunscreen."

He snorts with amusement. "That's way too weak. But maybe your tinker and the other guy have some idea."

"I'll get them to work on it," she says. "Promise. Because I don't want that happening ever again."

"Oh boy," he remarks. "Have mercy. You know, you're _pretty_ fucking convincing."

She snorts. "Oh, you wouldn't have come here otherwise?"

"I didn't wanna drag anyone else into this," he replies. "But I guess they were always in. No matter what anyone wanted."

"Yeah, probably," she agrees. "I'll be around the Rieger park the next nights, spying on the hunting party. Maybe we could, you know, meet somewhere around there."

"I'd love to," he replies honestly. "But I'll go now. They'll get suspicious if we talk too long."

"They'll get suspicious no matter what," she contends. "Okay. Take care. Don't let the sun catch you."

* * *

"Oh, back already," Pepper remarks, sounding quite loose already. "You want a Cosmopolitan and dish on your friend?"

They're so close already, though Sharon has just been here a few weeks. Pepper really seems to want a female friend. Maybe it was the same with Bobbi. Maybe it's just Natasha who is fucked up. "Yeah, sure. Just one."

"Mix me a second one, too," Sharon interjects, feet up on the couch. "Pretty please and thanks."

"So," Pepper remarks, filling the vodka into the shaker with precision. "Just what Fury wanted, right?"

"I thought he would be _way_ scarier," Sharon states. "Really. Actually, he kinda seemed familiar. Can't place it, though."

"Have you researched black cloaks before?" Natasha asks, sinking onto another couch.

"Yeah, I guess that must be it," Sharon agrees, biting into the lime wedge. "Should go through it again, maybe I can find him."

"He's kinda cute, though," Pepper remarks, shaking. "He was _constantly_ looking to you for affirmation."

"Hey," Natasha protests. "He thought you'd all hate him!"

"Seriously, that's not what I was mentally preparing for when Fury told me about the black cloak," Sharon states. "I get it, though. On your part. That guy's definitely not faking it."

"Oh yeah," Pepper agrees, pouring three glasses. "Definitely not. Sorry, Clint, dick-free zone tonight, you'll have to stay out."

Clint snorts, walking into the kitchen anyway. "Just let me get my beer. I really need it tonight."

"Fine," Pepper relents, balancing the cocktails over. "So. Ladies."

"To suicide missions," Sharon suggests, raising her glass. "And to the one cute vampire."

Clint groans. "You know what, I don't even _wanna_ stay."

* * *

"Seriously," Natasha insists, even though they're both giggling, rolling her pant leg up. "I've been growing way more hair on my legs lately. Don't laugh."

"Just shave it," Sharon suggests, chuckling. "Whatever."

"Shaving?!" Natasha repeats perplexed. "My entire legs? What kind of Western imperialist bullshit is _that_?"

"You don't shave your legs?" Sharon asks, dumbfounded. "I mean, I'm not super diligent about it either, but once in a while… What about armpits?! Please tell me you shave your armpits."

"For _what,_ " Natasha demands to know, raising one arm. "Seems like a complete waste of time, if you ask me. Something they would teach you in those schools on how to get a rich guy. You know, before."

"I do shave the armpits," Pepper contends. "But not the legs. I have really fine hair, though, so it's not a big deal."

"Wait," Sharon interrupts. "And, you know, down there? You wouldn't let Tony down there if you weren't clean shaven, right?"

Peppers laughs loudly. "Of course I would. Like that _matters_."

"Huh." Sharon shakes her head. "I think I'm experiencing a cultural shock. And I'm drunk, that probably doesn't help."

"Do you hate all hair on your body?" Natasha inquires, sipping on the last drops of an empty glass. "Why?"

"I don't know, I thought that was standard," Sharon argues. "Yeah, I guess. Except head and eyebrows. Then again, half of my family is American, so maybe I got it there."

Natasha snorts. Fucking Americans. "Wouldn't expect anything different from there."

"Come on," Pepper objects. "Most people in the Czech Republic _hate_ Russians."

"No, I get that," Natasha acknowledges. "I mean, I don't feel responsible for it personally, but I get it. '68 and all."

"Don't fight," Sharon pleads. "I'm drunk, I'll start crying."

* * *

The Central Station is on their side of the river and Barrandov is off South but Bílá Hora is in the backwater of the Castle, no easy way to avoid it. It is decided she, Sharon and Clint will stake out around Rieger Park while Tony, Pepper and Sam will take Barrandov. Only James can get to Bílá Hora, though. She suggests he might carry someone there but nobody is keen on that, and she understands nobody wants to get into a part of the city they can't return from until dawn. So she'll have to tell him.

They're inside an empty apartment now, sun already down, waiting for any of the vampires to show up and then follow them until they go back to their daytime refuge. And if not today, then tomorrow. Or the day after that. These things take time.

"You know, you constantly surprise me," Clint remarks. "I didn't think you were just going to interrupt Stark."

Sharon snorts, tying up her hair. "Well, I'm more of the quiet type… and if you are, then people always have this misconception that you're _nice_."

"Tasha's definitely the quiet type," Clint objects. "And no one would mistake her for nice."

Natasha doesn't look up from her binoculars. She's given up on making friends. She just can't. Train left the station years ago, together with all her hopes and dreams. "Fair," Sharon replies. "But she has that Russian brashness about her."

"She grew up in a single room apartment, bathroom down the hall," Clint explains. "Four people, no door to close. Guess that makes you brash."

"Oh." Sharon sounds interested again and she already knows that she's going to ruin this opportunity, too. "You have a sibling?"

Natasha closes her eyes, painful memories of Nikolai flooding in. "Had."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Sharon retreats. "I shouldn't have asked."

No, she should have, it's just that… "I have a brother," Clint admits. "We fell out, though. Long time ago."

"That's sad, too." Oh God, she genuinely sounds affected. "I don't have siblings. My father… he got killed by vampires, though, early on."

"And that's why you wanted to become a hunter?" Clint asks. "What were you doing with your life in the before times?"

"I was in school," Sharon states with amusement. "I'm born in 1975, I was just finishing my A-levels."

"You're- oh my God." Clint groans. "I'm getting old. Tasha, we're getting old."

"1974," Natasha reminds him. "It's just you who's getting old."

Clint grumbles. "I always forget you got engaged at _18_."

"Oh, you were _engaged_?" Sharon asks in surprise. "I'm not even sure my braces were off already."

Other painful memories bubbling up. Alexei. People strapped to tables. Blood. "You might even know him," Clint suggests. "Got pretty famous. Alexei Shostakov."

"Is that…" Oh, she wishes she could leave. Run away. "The Red Guardian? I remember the posters. Oh, and the Black Widow, that must have been you. Cool, I wasn't aware of that."

Nothing cool about it. "Yeah, I guess it was an uplifting story," Clint remarks. "A young couple fighting and risking their lives for their country and their people. Him getting ripped apart by vampires is not exactly a happy ending, but it does drive home the sacrifice."

She can't listen to this. Fortunately, there's a knock on the door. The other two startle. "Seriously?" Clint asks in disbelief. "He can track you _inside_ a house?"

"Certainly seems so," Natasha replies briefly, getting up. "One of you take the window, be right back."

She doesn't intend to be _right_ back but okay. Cocks her gun and opens the door. It's actually him. Slips out into the hallway. "Hey."

"Hey," he replies. "How are you? Everything okay?"

His face is still not fully healed. "Yeah, yeah, sure. Just needed a break. Been sitting behind this window for almost three hours."

"I imagine," he says. "So, you are doing the hunting party here?"

"Yeah, about that." She sighs. "The other team is down in Barrandov but we just can't get to Bílá Hora. Too close to the Castle, the way back is blocked, it's just too dangerous. So, can you do recon there, gather their hiding places and all?"

"Sure." He shrugs. "Just, is that useful? If none of you are familiar with the area?"

She snorts. "Come on. You can take out a hunting party on your own, without any help."

He grins. "I mean, yeah. Obviously."

"So only you need to know the area," Natasha concludes. "Oh, come here, you idiot."

He steps forward and she kisses his cold lips, warming him up. She's kind of already used to it. The fangs still feel weird but it doesn't bother her too much. His hands come to her waist, though she hardly feels that through the suit, and her back bumps very softly against the wall. The hallway is completely quiet. She kisses him harder.

He breaks it eventually, licking from her jaw to her ear, then her neck just above the bite guard. She shivers, hard. He grins. "Oh, you smell wonderful again."

"Aroused," she whispers. "That's what you mean."

"Yeah," he agrees, licking over her ear. "I guess that's what it is. Aroused."

She takes a deep breath. He somehow smells _warm_. "Listen, about that-"

The door opens but he's super-fast, so they're standing at an inconspicuous distance in no time. If only she weren't so distracted still. Clint peeks out, bag thrown over his shoulder. "Spotted one. We'll try and stay on his trail. You… well, we can try without you."

Way to make her feel bad. "No, I'm coming with you. Let's go."

James still looks amused. "I'll leave, then. Good luck. I'll see you."

"Sure," Natasha replies, not looking back. "See you."

"He could have come with us," Sharon suggests in a hushed tone as they climb down the stairs. "I wouldn't have minded."

"Well, _I_ would've," Clint throws in, opening the door. "Okay. He went down Šumavská."

* * *

"34 is a fucking lot," Sam repeats. "I appreciate the information on the guard but that's not going to be anywhere near enough. If we can't think of some brilliant strategy, we're not going to make it all out alive."

"He can go in again," Pepper points out, twisting her earlobe. "Gather more information. Maybe that would help."

"Not enough," Fury states coldly. "Information is one thing. They're just too fucking many."

"Isn't it obvious?" Natasha asks.

"I don't like where this is going," Clint remarks.

"We need a ruse," Natasha explains regardless. "And the obvious ruse is that I've finally agreed to become Schmidt's vampire lackey and James and I are just stopping by the Castle for the day before leaving the next night. That way, we can take them out quietly from inside and then you attack from the outside."

"We don't have to take them all at once," Sam analyzes. "There'll be chaos. You could get several before anyone even notices, if things go right."

"You have a lot of fucking trust in that guy," Tony throws in venomously.

"Kind of our only option," Sharon remarks quietly.

Everyone falls silent. Natasha crosses her arms in front of her chest. "Is there a problem, Tony? Say it."

"I can't believe nobody will-" Tony groans. "He literally just wants to fuck you! That's it! And it's _painfully_ obvious, but I guess we're all just going to ignore that, because he's acting nice or something, and pretend that's not _exactly_ what he's going for-"

"So what?!" Natasha screams back. "Even if, so _fucking_ what? If anyone else, if-" She stops before dragging poor Bruce into this. "If it was literally _anyone_ else, that would be totally okay and normal to want but if it's _him,_ it's evil incarnate? Some complicated and twisted plot to get-"

"Nat," Tony interrupts. "He's a fucking _vampire_."

"He's not even a fucking person to you, is he," she states in disbelief.

"Shut up, both of you," Fury jumps in. "None of this is helpful. We're trusting him not because we like it, but because if we can't, we're fucked any way you twist it. That's just a fact. So, anyone else have some brilliant strategy or is that it?"

As silent as a grave. "Didn't think so," Fury mutters. "Well, then we're going with that. For now. Anything on the hunting parties?"

"No sign of them yet," Sam replies.

"We had one but lost him," Clint adds. "Going back tonight."

"What are you waiting for?" Fury asks. "Get your asses back there _right now._ "


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Action... of the different kind.

"I got you a phone," she offers. "So I don't have to wait for you to show up to tell you whatever."

She slunk away from the surveillance mission an hour before sunrise and now they're here. Alone. "So you don't have to trap me inside an apartment I can't leave until sundown," he remarks.

She snorts. "You're really easy to lure, I have to say. I mean, I don't know if you can even use that, with the claws."

"Might be a problem," he acknowledges. "So you got me a bugged phone so you can better monitor me."

She rolls her eyes. "It's not bugged. Wasn't anyone's idea but mine. Hell, I bought it yesterday and didn't hand it over to anyone else, if that's what you need to hear."

"Okay." He flips it open, pressing a flat finger on a key because of the claw. "Yeah, that's gonna be an issue."

"Thought so," Natasha remarks. "They really don't make phones for vampires, though."

He grins. "I'll figure it out, don't worry. Or I won't, not a big deal."

She snorts. "You've never used a phone, have you."

"Nope," he replies gleefully. "Then again, never wanted to communicate with anyone, so maybe I'll change my mind."

"Schmidt doesn't like to call?" she asks.

"Total technophobe," he replies, flipping the phone closed. "Which is funny, if you think about it."

"Good for us, though, if it means he doesn't find out too early about what's going on here," she remarks.

"Oh, yeah," he agrees. "Helps if he doesn't just call up Rumlow."

She's sitting on the bed, because she specifically chose an apartment with a bed, and now it's starting to feel awkward. "Yeah. So… we got interrupted last time."

"We did," he agrees, stuffing the phone away.

"I don't know if that… whole arousal, sex thing, if that's something you want," she tries. "Or can do, for that matter."

"Oh." He looks away. "Yeah. I mean, I know what I want but I hadn't considered what I _can_ … Yeah, now it's awkward."

"You're a fucking vampire," she remarks. "You think that's not awkward already?"

He snorts. "Oh, that. Well… I mean, whatever you want, I'm in, but really can't make promises."

She grins, extending a leg. "Mhm. And now you're stuck here for the day, too."

"Swear to God," he replies. "If I had trapped you somewhere and made that sort of offer, you'd shoot me right now."

"I might be a little trigger-happy around vampires," she admits. "Occupational risk."

He rolls his eyes, leaning over to her. "Promise not to shoot me today?"

"Mhm, put all my weapons over there," she whispers, breathing him in. "Don't worry, sweetheart."

He kisses her, not that carefully, and she grabs his head and pulls him on top of her. The biteguard's off but she still has the full body armor on. She unties the fucking cloak and throws and kicks it out of the way, because that thing is huge. His claws scratch over her armor, the shoulder, breastplate, down to the belt. He dives in to lick her neck, making her shiver. "Promise you won't bite me?" she asks weakly.

"Never," he whispers into her skin. "Unless you ask me to, that is."

"No intention of-" She stops momentarily because his knees come to bracket her hips. "No. Won't."

He grins, fangs peeking out, scratching lightly over her skin. "Stubborn."

"You like that, don't you," she remarks.

"Dollface," he replies, pulling at her zipper. "You make me feel things I haven't felt in decades."

She flips them over and takes a seat on top of him, grabbing the zipper herself. "I think we're both more comfortable if I take the initiative here."

"Not stopping you," he replies, hands coming to her hips as she pulls the zipper down. She rocks against him for good measure, but he feels hard all over, nowhere specific.

Fine. Getting rid of the sleeves first. She kisses him quickly, then unstraps his leather jacket as good as she can. That thing's _complicated._ "Shoes first?" he suggests.

Not very sexy but those should probably be out of the way. "Yeah. I'll do mine."

She finds another silver knife in her boot, pulling it out casually and flipping it equally casually. He snorts, untying his combat boots. "So you didn't put all of your weapons away."

"You never know," she remarks ominously, kicking the boots off. "Scared?"

"You amaze me," he returns, untying the other boot. "Really."

"I bet your smooth talk worked better when you didn't have fangs," she suggests, wiggling out of the pants part of the suit. "Or claws."

"Probably," he admits, placing the boots on the floor. "Was probably also more fun when I didn't have to worry about scratching and biting."

"Oh, you don't know that yet," she remarks, settling back into his lap. "Maybe you like just lying there as I ravage you."

He grins. " _Definitely_ like that."

"Mhm, let's see," she mutters, grabbing onto his shirt and pulling hard while kissing him, thrusting her tongue into his mouth. The scars are smooth dips on his chest, most of them feeling like claw marks. She tries not to dwell but they're everywhere.

"Smell good," he whispers, fingers and claws trailing down her mostly naked back. "Really fucking good."

She sits up and unclasps her bra, wiggling her way out. "Not to be a killjoy but it would be great if you didn't scratch me."

He takes his hands away and places them on both sides of his head. "All yours."

She snorts, pushing up to her knees so she can work on his pants. "No need to go all submissive about it. Unless that's your thing."

He bites his lip, smirking, head tilting back as he raises his hips for her. "Not sure yet what my thing is."

"Yeah, about that," she remarks. "You're not… hard, are you."

He breathes out in frustration. "No. Doesn't feel so."

"Let's see if we can do something about that," she suggests, tugging his pants down to sit directly on his boxer shorts, just two thin layers of fabric between them. Oh, she smells herself. "But, I'm really not as mean as it might seem. So, if that's not in the cards, I'm not going to be a bitch about it."

"No offense, but could you stop talking like that," he returns, rocking his hips tentatively. "Doesn't help."

"Okay," she deflates. "Mhm. Well, I could try sucking you off, that usually works."

"Mhm." He doesn't sound terribly convinced. "If you want."

She's frankly happy over any excuse not to talk. Scoots down and gets rid of his pants the rest of the way, then yanks the shorts down just enough. Yeah, not very excited to see her. She gives him a tentative lick anyways and the reaction is so instantaneous that she thinks she imagined it. Licks over the tip and he twitches again. "Fuck, that feels great," he breathes. "Yeah. Do that."

Once again, upon touch, his body reacts to hers and that's intoxicating. She licks him up and down, sucks on the tip, and he twitches again and again. Not quite hard but definitely getting there. She takes her hand to help out. He's warm in places she hasn't touched before, abs, thighs, legs. Transformed. She dives in to take more of him into her mouth.

He's still not fully hard but as she bobs her head down, he suddenly _comes_ , hot liquid shooting into her mouth, it's just a little but she still chokes at the unexpectedness and oh God, that tastes _awful._ He groans deeply. "Oh fuck, that feels great. Fuck. Felt great."

She reaches for the tissues she wisely put next to the bed, noticing peripherally that he's fully hard now, even though- bah, the taste is really bad, somehow old and sour and rancid. Spits into the tissue, trying to rub the taste out of her mouth. He looks concerned, slowly getting off his high. "You okay?"

"Just the taste," she replies, climbing out of bed. "I'll go wash my mouth real quick."

She gets to the bathroom and turns the faucet on. Nothing happens. Turns it off and on again. Nothing. Come on. Off and on again. No water. Fuck, they cut the water, of course they did, it's an abandoned apartment.

She groans, still that awful taste in her mouth, walking back. "You didn't bring water, did you?"

"Oh," he remarks, still sounding dazed. "Sorry. No."

"Faucet's dry like a powdered gun," she states. Well, the taste will have to go away eventually, sooner or later. She just has to be patient until then.

She sits down on the bedside. He scoots up to her, kissing her, then pulling a face. "Bah. Okay, I see- bah, I'm sorry."

"You couldn't have known," she remarks, trying to swallow the taste away. "But- wow, once you're on, you're _really_ on, aren't you."

He snorts. "Freaks me out, too, believe me. Um, but can I make it up to you? I feel really bad about this."

She sighs, dropping on her back, legs hanging down. "Yeah, you can try. I'd like to forget about the _taste_."

He sits down on the floor, pulling her knees apart, nostrils flaring. His claws clutch her panties carefully, tugging them down. She still smells aroused even though she's not in the mood anymore. "Mhm," he makes. "Never done that with fangs before. Or claws. But I'll try."

"Still have a tongue," she breathes, as said tongue darts out to her. "Without hands is weird though, I'll admit that."

"I can touch you without scratching," he replies, placing his warm palms on her breasts. "I just have to focus. And no sudden movements."

She grins, insides contracting pleasurably. "Isn't that the whole point?"

He licks upwards. "Oh, I'll go _slow_. Have all day, after all."

"Yeah, you maybe," she mutters. "Ah! Theretherethere."

His fingers tighten around her breasts but the claws stay up. He leans in so the flat front of his fangs presses against her, both sides, and he can lick deeply in between. Her mouth waters, which is very helpful in getting rid of the taste. Her temperature's slowly turning up, her insides twitching then and when.

His tongue darts in, just the tip, then sweeps up again, around her clit, then back down and from the beginning. It's like breathing, except everything is _in_ , slowly growing the pleasure in her body. "Tastes good?" she asks breathlessly.

He pulls back, hands squeezing her breasts. "Smell's more intense for me. But yeah."

She snorts, grabbing his hair that's actually fairly long. "Shouldn't have given you an excuse to talk. Go on."

He grins, lips closing around her clit, and her back shoots up immediately, walking that tightrope until he kicks her off unceremoniously, and she drops with a scream and a shudder and it feels so _fucking good._ Fuck. Been a while. Doesn't bother catching her breath. "Used to do that a lot, hm?"

"Can't remember exactly," he replies, lapping around her clit. "Also, I thought I wasn't supposed to talk."

She ignores him but appreciates the teasing. "Come on. How many girls do you remember?"

"Mhm." He sits back on his heels. "Four? I'm really not sure which snippets of memories belong together. Maybe six."

"I only ever screwed six guys," she replies. "Not counting you. That'd be number seven."

"Wow," he remarks, taking his right hand back, wetting the thumb and rubbing the pad over her clit. "Why?"

She snorts. "I'm not even 25 yet. And a vampire epidemic struck when I was 18, so not a lot of partying from then on. So, everything your fault."

He rolls his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. Think I was a little older when the war started. Though that really cut off the getting laid, yeah."

"And I was engaged," she reminds him. "If not for you and your fucking vampire plague, I could still be at two."

"Seriously?" he asks. "You wanted to marry the _second_ guy you fucked?"

"He was totally fine!" she insists. "Other than that he turned out to be a monster. But maybe he wouldn't have been if not for fighting vampires for years. So I blame that one on you as well."

He snorts, licking her again. "Totally fine. Great guy."

She jumps the part where she… yeah. "When the hunters in Moscow fell apart and I went to Saint Petersburg… well, I screwed three guys in pretty rapid succession, like that would help forget about Alexei, but of course it didn't. Yeah, and then I left Russia all together."

"Wait." He sits back again. "You screwed someone _here_?"

Look how he can count. "Yeah, sure. Clint."

"You _what_ ," he repeats. "Isn't he _way_ older than you?"

He's so transparently jealous it's kinda cute. "Twelve years. And you're one to talk, really."

"That's different," he immediately rejects. "Totally different. I mean, what the _fuck_."

"Spent a lot of nights together on patrol," she remarks with amusement. "His wife left him, I kinda murdered my fiancé, we just gave it a try. Wasn't good for our relationship, though, so we left it at a one-time thing. You can let it go, that was in my first year here."

"That's _nothing_ ," he returns. "A year ago? Not even two?"

"Every year is a century now," she reminds him. "Because of the fucking vampire epidemic you started, need I remind you."

"Wasn't _my choice_ ," he insists. "But what about- yeah, okay, I'll shut up now. Stop kicking me."

She grins, relaxing her foot. "Come on, don't tell me that hurts you."

"I dunno but right now, I really feel it," he remarks before leaning in again. "Uh, or do you wanna call it a day?"

"I hope you're kidding."

He grins, licking his lips before diving in again. "Yeah. Okay."

* * *

"We talked about that, actually," Natasha tells them. "Apparently, there's nine black cloaks left. We got one, so eight. Which is still a lot, considering we can't even handle one."

"Oh, so that's where you were all day," Clint remarks. "Talking strategy."

"Shut the fuck up," she returns. "Plus Schmidt. Plus Zola. It's not clear that he'll go all in, that might be too risky, but we'll face at least three black cloaks. If we somehow miraculously survive that, he might just send the rest in. Or he leaves us alone. Who knows, really."

"That's the ballpark, though," Fury states. "Stark, anything?"

"Well, if Russian Rose is right and there's actually mind control involved, we really need to get it out of that guy's brain," Tony suggests. "Which means we need to find out how it works and how we can block it. Which means, unfortunately, we need that guy in here."

"I gave him a phone," Natasha remarks. "I can literally just call him."

"I think the UV lights are essential," Sam throws in. "If we're dealing with three black cloaks or more. They may be faster, stronger, fly, whatever, but the light still works. So we need to prepare deliberately where exactly we fight them."

"And then we need some sort of protection from that for James," Pepper adds. "Like it or not, he's useful. If you can build something like that."

"That's actually not that hard," Tony remarks. "I mean, walls block UV light just fine. So I just need to build him something wall-like but wearable. But again, you need to send him in here for that."

Natasha snorts. "Well, can you not be a total asshole to him?"

"You wound me," Tony claims. "No, really, as Brucey reminded me, he's actually super interesting to study. So I'll be all scientific curiosity."

"I'd like to take samples as well," Bruce adds quietly. "That might help in understanding the vampirism."

"Don't overdo it," Fury recommends. "Anything on the hunting parties?"

"We might have the block down," Sam replies. "But not confirmed yet. And we're not supposed to engage anyway."

"Still nothing," Clint reports.

"I have a cut, unfortunately," Sharon admits. "So I won't be able to go out until it heals."

"Oh," Sam remarks. "Then we really shouldn't get a vampire in here."

"Not an issue," Natasha promises. "He'll smell it but he won't drop into a blood frenzy over it."

"Well, if we're, if you're risking that anyway," Tony suggests. "We could try these silver coated band-aids we still have lying around. Find out if they actually work."

"Or you could just be somewhere else when he drops by," Clint remarks.

"No, I'd like to test the band-aids," Sharon decides. "If you're sure that's safe, Natasha."

"Believe me," she replies. "I tried."

"Would be better if you didn't risk your life uselessly," Fury remarks. "But thanks. Then we'll get this guy in here tomorrow night. And continue to monitor the hunting parties."

"I obviously need to be here," Tony objects. "For the tests."

"I'll get my period any day now," Natasha remarks. "So can't either."

Fury groans. "Great. Carter's out, too. Barton, you go with Wilson and Pepper. No one's running around alone, you understand me?"

Natasha gets the feeling that's directed towards her. "Sure, boss."

She's actually glad she can be here because if she knows those two, they'll go completely overboard. She catches Tony alone in the hallway. "So you swallowed it now?"

Tony snorts, not even asking what she's talking about. "Not like you left us much choice in the matter."

"Not my fault if Schmidt targets us," Natasha replies. "Just trying to find a way out of it."

"Sure you are," Tony remarks sarcastically. "No, don't justify yourself. But don't ask me to like it."

"You would have preferred if I dated Bruce, right?" she asks. "From the very start."

"I just believe he would have been better for you than a fucking _vampire_ ," Tony replies. "But if you don't want that… your choice, your problem. Can't help you there."


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More weird vampire sex. Sorry not sorry.

She calls him and he doesn't pick up. Texts and he doesn't reply. Well, he probably doesn't know how to use the phone. Should have shown him, maybe. Next time. She opens her window at sundown and waits.

However, she can't help the nagging thought that maybe he's just gone now, now that she fucked him, maybe he already got what he wanted and now decided he's just gonna get killed if he stays here, maybe she's really fucking dumb after all, maybe she misread- No. God, she's turning into a teenager again, reading tea leaves and picking petals. He's gonna come. End of story.

It takes another quarter hour but then he arrives, landing smoothly on her windowsill. "Hi."

"Hi," she replies, arms crossed. "You couldn't just pick up your fucking phone?"

"Oh, yeah, about that." He slips in, taking the phone out of his pocket. "I need the charger. Battery was almost empty when you gave it to me."

"Oh my God." She goes full abandoned mistress and starts doubting everything and freaks out that he might have used her and she just forgot the _charger?_

"What?" he asks with amusement.

"Never mind," she replies, going through her shelf. "Should be here somewhere. Oh, try that one."

He flips the phone a couple of times until he finds where to plug it in, but it fits. "Thanks. Now I just need a place with electricity."

"Gimme, I'll just plug it in now, that should get you over the week," she replies, holding out a hand. "Uh, and I need to ask you for a big fucking favor, because you're not going to like why you're here tonight."

He sniffs. "Your period or are you hurt?"

"Period," she replies. "Sharon has a cut, though, don't eat her. Yeah, well, Tony and Bruce want to run tests on you, how vampires work, what's up with the UV light, what to do against the mind control thing. It's really necessary."

"If it's necessary, it's not a favor," he remarks.

"Semantics," she returns. "So you're going to do it?"

He sighs. "Well, what do they need? Blood? I'd prefer not getting exposed to UV light."

"Yeah, no, I'm not going to let them do that," she assures him. "Let's just go down there and find out, shall we?"

"I mean, I'd prefer not to," he replies. "But I guess it is necessary."

* * *

"Well, the first question is whether you can handle X-rays," Bruce states, corking up the blood vial. "I'd like to do a CT scan. And an MRI. Oh, and if you could, like, bite something so I can study the vampire poison, that'd be great, too."

"I don't know about the X-rays," James remarks. "Sounds dangerous."

"Also, he has metal parts in his left arm that he can't remove," Natasha adds.

"What?" Tony interrupts. " _In_ his arm? Let me see."

James unstraps his jacket reluctantly. Tony scoots over without getting up. She crosses her arms, stepping back. "Wow," Tony exclaims. "That is the _shittiest_ piece of bioengineering I've ever seen, and I haven't even really looked at it yet."

"To be fair, it's pretty old," Bruce remarks. "I would assume."

"Excuse me, my father built an almost flying car during the war," Tony retorts. "Way ahead of this garbage."

"Ah, yes," Natasha comments. "The almost flying car, the best kind of flying car."

"You shut your mouth," Tony returns. "Okay, if not an X-ray, I need to do at least an ultrasound to see what's going on here."

"We could take a skin probe and see how that reacts to X-rays," Bruce suggests, looking at the blood under the microscope. "The ultrasound won't work for his brain."

James doesn't look excited about that. "Uh, it's not a big deal," Bruce adds insightfully. "Less invasive than taking blood. I just need a few cells, the top top layer of a small spot of your skin."

"Yeah, you got tons of cells, don't worry," Tony adds. "Not literal tons, but you could definitely spare a few."

"And the X-rays are definitely better than an ultrasound or an MRI?" Natasha asks.

"I can't do an MRI if he has metal in his body," Bruce replies. "The ultrasound doesn't go through bone so the only way to look into his brain is a CT scan."

"What even is that," Tony asks, poking at a metal plate. "Titanium? Cobalt-chromium?"

"Stainless steel, I think," James replies.

"Stainless steel?" Tony repeats horrified. "No wonder it's falling apart. How long have you had that in your arm?"

"Some 50 years," James replies. "I think."

"Oh boy," Tony mutters, scooting back to his desk and his notes. "Yeah, I'll definitely have to take those out. That thing's a temporary fix at best, shouldn't have been left there for five fucking decades."

"But if you take it out, you'll need to replace it," James remarks.

"Yeah, working on it," Tony says, starting to scribble. "I'll need to design… Won't be quick, but I can get it done in a few weeks. I really need the ultrasound and the X-ray, though."

"There's only some 35 days left," Natasha remarks. "And it really needs to work by then, without issues."

Tony snorts. "Oh, great, then no sleep. No, I'll get it done, I'm used to that."

"Mind if I-" Bruce approaches, scraper in hand. "Right arm. It'll scratch a little, I guess, but I'm not sure I can give you anesthesia."

James extends the arm wearily. "Okay."

"Well, I'd like to sleep as well," Natasha remarks. "If you can do without me."

"Yeah, yeah, sure," Tony states, not looking up. "We'll be fine."

* * *

When she wakes up, he's sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall. She can't have slept for too long, it's still completely dark outside. She groans, stretching, yawning. "Hm. Are they done with you?"

"Yeah, seemed so," he replies. "I left when they stopped talking to me. Uh, I just didn't want to run into anyone else, I didn't come up here to creep on you while you're sleeping."

"Yeah, okay," she remarks, even though the thought of him watching her sleep is creepy. "Didn't wanna leave?"

"No," he says. "I guess."

She sits up slowly. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, sure," he replies too quickly. "I should probably go, though."

She sinks back onto her bed, back into the nagging thought. "Well. I guess."

"Are you okay?" he asks back.

"Yes," she replies. "No, I just keep thinking- no, that's dumb."

"Sounds serious, though," he remarks.

"I just keep thinking you're going to run away," she confesses. "Now that we had sex. It's kinda childish, I don't know where I get that from right now."

"Aw, sweetheart," he replies. "No. I mean, the sex was great, despite needing to work out the kinks, no pun intended. But I'm not going to run away because of that, that's not the point."

She snorts. "Yeah, yeah. But now you need to tell me what's bothering you, now that I've made a fool of myself."

"You haven't," he assures her. "No, talking about it is only gonna make it worse."

She sits up again. "Is it about the tests?"

"No, no," he replies. "I don't like those, no, but I get it. I just… I don't wanna be creepy."

"Good," she remarks. "But?"

He sighs. "You really, really, really smell of blood. And I can't ignore that- I'm not going to jump you but it's giving me thoughts, and I'm afraid that's totally creepy to you."

"You wanna suck the blood from my vagina," she states.

"Yeah." He shakes his head. "Come on, say it, that's creepy."

"Can't change who you are," she remarks. "As long as you have it under control… I don't know, I think you're overthinking it. I mean, I can't say I understand it and it is kinda weird for that reason but that's not malicious. Like you have a weird kink. I don't have to share it to participate in it."

He snorts. "Yeah, that still sounds like it sucks for you, though. I'd like to keep my being a bloodsucking monster out of our sex at least."

"You literally have fangs and claws and two orgasms," she reminds him. "I don't think you can keep that out."

"Oh yeah," he remarks. "That's bad enough."

"I'm fine with that," she replies, getting out of bed and pulling her panties down. "Come on. Nobody ever went down on me during my period, I wanna know how that feels."

He sniffs involuntarily, fingers tightening around his knee. "Probably not much different."

"Well, then there's no issue anyway," she remarks, stepping out of the panties and towards him. "Stop whining about it."

He shoves her against the wall faster than she can see, lapping at her folds, groaning. "Fuck. Tell me to stop."

"Fuck you, no," she moans, head dropping back, hooking one leg over his shoulder. "Harder."

His fangs lock against her, tongue thrusting in as far as it will go. She shrieks at the penetration. He wiggles it around until she really loses it, her belly feeling like it will explode. He groans again, pulling back. "Look, I really like making you scream, but they'll think I'm murdering you."

"Yeah, yeah," she interrupts, breathing hard. "Come back here, I'll try and keep quiet."

He licks her bloodied juices from his lips, then presses his mouth between her legs. She bucks against his jaw. She'd really like some stimulation on her clitoris but he's clearly not up for that right now. His licking feels good, too. He sucks on her folds and she presses her palm on her mouth, muffling the moan. It feels like she should dry out but she's getting wetter and wetter instead. She groans, deeply, in her chest. He swipes over her clitoris briefly and her hips shoot forward, head dropping back, shudders through it. Ahhhh. He licks into her again, relentless.

She totally forgets about the blood, just notices how greedily he licks and sucks her juices up. Oh fuck. She grabs his hair, pulling, other hand slipping under her shirt to palm her breast. His right hand is wrapped around her thigh, left pressing against the wall. The sucking turns her on but it doesn't get her off, so she drags on his hair until he relents and turns his attention to her clitoris, just a few seconds and then she's thrashing already, pressing her lips together so she doesn't scream out loud. He's back at her vagina before she even comes down from it. She sighs softly.

It's starting to feel like he's really forcing something out of her, like something's being pulled down, and that's kinda weird indeed but she's hot and bothered and doesn't want to stop. She rocks her hips, using the shape of his face for her pleasure. He thrusts his tongue in again and she likes that better than the sucking, groaning, oh God, she wants him to fuck her. Tongue's too short and too slim and too soft. She plucks at her nipple to get some of the pressure down. The wiggle inside her feels somewhat like him coming and her body responds in kind, constricting around him, and she groans and lets it happen, lets it surge through her. When she looks down again, he's sat back, licking over his lips and fangs. "Was that weird?"

"I don't know," she replies, dazed. "I guess if it's a little weird, that's kinda… erotic. No, I don't like that word."

He licks over his lower lip again, pushing her leg off his shoulder and getting up, leaning in to kiss her. He tastes of her vagina more than of blood. "Please don't tell me me sucking your blood is your kink."

"Shut up," she returns, testing whether her right leg is stable. "No. But you being really into licking my pussy, that's kinda hot."

"Oh, I always like licking your pussy," he returns, kissing her again. "On your period or not."

She sighs against his lips. "Are you going to fuck me now?"

He groans, pressing her into the wall. "Would love to. But if I don't leave soon, I'll be stuck here all day. And I should really get some sleep."

"Mhm." She pecks his lips. "Shame."

"And I should spend some time around Bílá Hora," he adds. "So maybe we should take some time off."

"Yeah, maybe that's good," she remarks. "I mean, if you'd suck blood out of my vagina every day, that might be weird. And maybe my teammates will feel a little better if I spend more time with them."

He snorts. "With Barton."

"Yeah, with Clint," she returns. "Got a problem with that? I didn't let him suck blood out of my vagina, by the way."

"Could you stop saying that?" he asks. "Fine. Just saying."

"Great," she states. "Now, get me my panties back before I bleed all over the place again."

He steps back, picking the panties with the soiled pad up. "Don't think you'll bleed anywhere anytime soon."

"Bah," she makes, snatching her underwear from him. "Now _that_ was weird."

He grins. "Fine, fine. I'll leave."

She snorts, wiggling into her panties. "Don't forget your phone. And the charger. And if you don't pick up again, I swear to God."

* * *

"Your pills are running out, by the way," Bruce tells her. "The testosterone. Apparently, there was some delivery problem and we don't know when we'll get new ones. So, if you start feeling exhausted, your menstrual cycle changes, that sort of thing, it's the hormones."

"Huh," she remarks, putting the bottle back. "Yeah. Okay. Thanks. I've actually been feeling stronger lately. Maybe I can space them out more."

"You can try," Bruce replies. "I can test your hormone levels, too, if that helps."

"No, no, you're busy with the vampire samples, you should keep doing that," she states. "I'll figure it out myself. So, how is that going?"

" _Fascinating_ ," Bruce remarks. "Very early, of course, but… I've never had such good samples. The poison, especially. There are cells in there that aren't in the blood probe at all, that I've never seen before."

She grins at his enthusiasm. "Okay, okay. I'll leave you to it, then."

Bruce yawns. "Should go to bed now, really. So good night, good day, whichever it is."

"Good night, Bruce," Sharon replies from the couch, chewing on her pencil. "Um, Natasha, can I ask why you're taking testosterone? Is that medical or for enhancement?"

"Medical," Natasha replies, looking for a bowl. "I don't usually talk about it but- when I became a hunter, I had my uterus removed, fallopian tubes too. Anyway, the ovaries got damaged during the surgery, and now they don’t always produce enough hormones anymore and I have to replace them. Testosterone, estrogen, that sort of thing."

"Oh yeah." Sharon looks down at her crosswords again. "I got an IUD. But that’s a little extreme, right?"

"Everything was in chaos by then," Natasha explains, filling her bowl with cereal. "The guy who did it was actually a veterinarian. I mean, I don't blame anyone. If I take the pills, it's all fine. There might be long-term effects but who knows if I'll ever reach those."

"Yeah, it's not looking so good right now," Sharon remarks. "By the way, Pepper and I are going for a run in the morning, if you want to join us again."

Oh no. "Thanks, but I don't actually like running."

Sharon grins. "Oh. Well, maybe we could spar instead."

"That's right up my alley," Natasha replies, adding milk. "If you don't mind me asking… IUDs are not permanent, right? So, it's not forever?"

"Yes, I have to get it changed every three to five years," Sharon explains. "Once it's out, I could have children again, yes. I guess the medical situation in 1993 was just a lot better in Britain than in Russia. And the outbreak didn't look so hopeless that I assumed it would never end."

Natasha snorts. "In Russia, it definitely did look like the end of the world."

"I imagine," Sharon agrees empathetically. "Especially with your brother dying. My father, that also felt like the end of the world."

"Oh, I think you misunderstood," Natasha remarks. "Nikolai wasn't killed by vampires."

"Oh, I thought- sorry," Sharon states. "So not vampires?"

"Yeah," Natasha says very slowly. "AIDS."

"Oh my God." Sharon puts the crosswords down. "Sorry. I always forget there's other things going on in the world. So… so he died very slowly."

"It was painful," Natasha admits. "He was sick for… I don't know, months. So frail. I guess he was- homosexual, I don't think he used drugs, but I don't really know, we never talked about it. You know, like a good Soviet family. And there wasn't even clear information about how you get it, who is most at risk, how widespread it is. I thought we were just too poor to get him treatment, because everyone is poor in Russia, but… I guess there's no treatment at all."

"Still isn't, really," Sharon confirms. "There's been attempts but… yeah. I'm sorry."

"I don't like thinking about it," Natasha confesses, staring at the cereal she absolutely doesn't want to eat. "But yeah, sparring sounds great, I'd totally be in."

"Great, then we'll do that once Pepper's back," Sharon replies. "My cut's healed, by the way, I don't know when you can go out again."

"Still a couple of days," Natasha replies. "But I think you can go without me, just you and Clint. Two people can do surveillance just fine. Oh, hey, boss."

"Where's Banner?" Fury asks. "Stark said he went to the kitchen."

"He just went to bed, I think," Sharon replies. "Why? Is it urgent?"

"Hell yes," Fury replies. "And it's _huge_."


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is mostly smut again.

"Everything is such a mess these days," Clint comments. "So we're getting a transfer?"

Natasha snorts, staring out the window. "Yeah, it is. No, not a transfer, we're getting an ice block. Literally."

"I didn't know Bruce was the preeminent expert in cryogenics," Sharon remarks. "That's really cool."

"Rule of thumb," Clint suggests. "Bruce is the preeminent expert on everything."

"I really don't understand why they think they can get him out alive," Natasha complains. "God knows how long he's been in there. Wouldn't he have starved and frozen to death a million times over?"

"That's complicated," Sharon admits. "The way I understand it, there's a lot of methane in the ice, and methane forms clathrate hydrates with biological tissue, which prevents the water in the cells from crystallizing during freezing, which would usually destroy the cell membranes. So there's a chance his body wasn't damaged by the ice. And when he's frozen, his body functions will definitely stop, so he wouldn't starve either. The only problem is how to get him out, because just heating him up is not going to do it."

"I didn't understand any of that," Clint returns. "But I didn't get my A-levels either."

"I finished  _ school _ ," Sharon points out. "It's not like I studied biology or medicine or anything."

"Yeah, I didn't," Clint repeats.

"Well, whatever," Natasha remarks. "Let them figure it out. You know what, I feel like we should go out."

"Did you see anything?" Sharon asks, already getting up.

"No, just a feeling," Natasha replies. "Let's go."

The streets are quiet, as always. Every street every night. Natasha goes straight North, not checking whether they follow her. Her gut tells her where to go, what feels right. Right now, it urges her to get an overview. "We should get up somewhere."

"There's a place three blocks down," Clint suggests. "Should be a good view."

"Let's go," Natasha decides again, turning on her heel.

They get there fairly soon, Clint throwing his grappling hook expertly up a balcony. "There. Uh, can I touch you or do you want to climb?"

"Touching's fine," Sharon replies, putting an arm around him. "But what about Natasha?"

"Just throw the rope down, I'll manage," Natasha says, looking around. She's not on the trail, she can tell quite clearly. Needs to survey a wider area.

"Hold on," Clint advises, wrapping one arm around Sharon's waist, and then they're shooting up already, climbing onto the balcony at the top. Clint throws the rope down to her and she flies up through the night as well, landing on the balcony and climbing onto the roof. "They like cellars," Sharon mutters. "We should look out for that."

Natasha sits down- no, that feels wrong. Sits down facing the other way. There's something there. She just has to wait until it shows itself. Clint turns around as well. There's movement, always, even now, rats and weasels and all that, or just something moving with the wind. The key is discerning what matters. Always. And sometimes, that's where there is  _ no _ movement.

She shifts slightly, ducking. Her senses are on. There. There. She signs the others to stay quiet, stay low. There. Movement in the unmoving street.

A guy is slipping down the street, sniffing, a moving shadow. He's not too close so he will probably not catch their direction. He slips off the street, disappearing. Natasha scrambles down the roof. "Hook."

She takes it and lowers herself onto the street, looking around. He was that way, went to the left… She checks any crossroads before taking it.

There's a pull or something of the sort, she can tell which way feels right, how a vampire would move, which corners he would take. She catches the trail soon enough, hair standing, all senses working in overload, follows it but not too quickly, has to stay hidden.

She couldn't describe what a trail actually is, if it's a smell or a sense or whatever, but she can find it and she can track it, purely on instinct, and she's getting better and better at it, too. This time, she catches sight of the vampire, falls back but stays on the trail, leaves it to turn a corner but keeps track of where it leads, circles around and back and- there he is. He looks around and then, seeing and smelling no one, climbs down a hatch, closing it behind him. "Bingo," Natasha whispers to herself, and to Clint and Sharon who just arrive behind her.

"Nice," Clint remarks quietly. "Do you see the number of the house?"

"No," Natasha replies. "We'll have to wait until dawn and then go check."

"We'd definitely find it on a map," Sharon remarks. "But yes, why not get all the intel we can."

Natasha's phone buzzes and she flips it open, looking at it kind of confused. Oh. James.  _ Spanish Synagogue in half an hour? _

"Your friend?" Sharon asks.

"Yeah, I should probably meet him," Natasha states, stuffing the phone away. The Spanish Synagogue is not that far, she can easily walk that in that time. "Is it okay if you check the house number alone, at day?"

"Thanks, we can read without you," Clint replies. "Go off, I guess."

"Great," Natasha remarks, already backing away. "I'll see you."

_ On my way. _

* * *

The Spanish Synagogue is beautiful but rather unremarkable from the outside. Not like all those churches standing around. Kinda unfair, actually. It's bolted, too, of course, so she waits at the street corner outside. It starts raining so she presses up against a house, finding some shelter under an overhanging roof.

There's a  _ swoosh _ and then he's there, next to her, swiping the wet hair out of his forehead. Looks like he didn't find shelter soon enough. "Hi," she remarks with amusement.

"Hi," he returns, wiping at his eyes. "I hate rain."

"Interesting," she comments. "So, what do you want?"

He grins, fangs showing, entering her space. "I wanna get you off the street and fuck you into a wall. Can I say that?"

"Yes," she replies with a shiver. "Also, works better if you don't ask for permission."

"Mhm." He licks over the edge of her biteguard or just above. "You smell excellent."

She shivers again. "You never tell me how I look."

"Oh, you always look great," he remarks, breathing her in. "Smell is more dominant for me, though."

"So if I injected vampire blood again and started smelling bad," she suggests. "You'd stop being attracted to me?"

He snorts. "I'm not all primal instincts, thank you. Also, it's not about your blood. You'd still smell aroused right now."

"You smell that through the suit?" she questions. "Wow. That's- invasive."

"Sorry," he replies. "Let me make it better by getting you off the street and fucking you into a wall."

She grins. "Like the sound of that. You got a place around, right?"

* * *

He shoves her into a wall, as promised, breaking the biteguard and yanking at her zipper. She kisses him hungrily and his thigh slips between her legs almost automatically. He needs a few pulls because he's distracted until he's stopped by her belt. She pulls at his shoulders, licking into his mouth while he unbuckles the damn thing. Drops to the floor noisefully. He pulls the zipper down the last inches and she starts grinding against his thigh, which is somewhere between cold stone and warmer flesh that's still hard with muscle. Lots of friction, in any case. He devours her.

She fumbles out of the sleeves on the side, while using his thigh, while being devoured. His flat palms run over her waist, her abs, her bra. She mewls with disappointment when he steps back. "Take that off."

She complies, unclasping and wiggling out, and then she's knocked back against the wall, devouring mouth back, palms squeezing her breasts roughly. She gasps, as good as she can. The pressure of his thigh is back. "I like your tits," he growls, twisting a nipple between his fingers. "How they look, how they feel." He leans down and sucks on it roughly. "Most of all, what your heart rate does when I do this."

She's a moaning mess, grabbing his hair and yanking him to the other side. The thigh affects her almost as much as if he was already fucking her, knocking into her again and again. He drags on the other nipple, too, then-

He shoves her frontally into the wall, cold, yanking her hips back so her ass comes out, grinding against that while his left hand grabs and holds onto her left breast. She groans deeply, palms pressing into the wall. She's already half naked and he's still fully dressed, which is kind of hot. He lets go and yanks her suit down to her knees, her panties down to her knees, and she moans in anticipation. He licks behind her ear while fumbling with his own pants, she presses up to the balls of her feet, he twitches against her ass, and he bends his knees and has to fumble because he's obviously not fully hard yet, but then he thrusts into her. She shouts her pleasure out freely while he shoots the first load into her, groaning deeply at it.

The orgasm doesn't slow him down, though, doesn't satisfy him, and she's knocked into the wall with the next thrust. She feels his pants, the leather jacket, pressing against her, and he fucks her into the wall, she's trapped and he's impaling her and she  _ loves  _ it. Not caring who else hears. He licks her neck, just under her hairline, fangs grazing lightly, licks behind her ears, down the artery, gathering up her sweat. He pounds into her and she screams, eyes pressed shut.

Taking breaks is not his strong suit so she doesn't even get to come down from it, he knocks her around mercilessly and she wallows in the pleasure up there, every thrust knocking her up and up and up. The wall's solid and he's solid and there's nowhere to fall, except off the cliff, which she does with a high-pitched moan.

She can't after that, feeling a little over-stimulated, so her pleasure levels go down, catching a break while he continues pounding her. She is utterly boneless but has to press away from the wall or she'd crash into it face first. It's rough but she always liked it that way. He yanks her hips up slightly with his right, angling upwards, and she's dazed but oh, then he hits it, oh fuck, and she's going  _ straight  _ back up. Not even sure her toes touch the floor anymore. He hammers the pleasure out of her good spot, the moans out of her lungs, the sense out of her, and the sky crashes down and she loses time and place and control.

Next thing she knows, he growls into her ear, sounding wound-up himself. "Come on, dollface. Gimme one more."

She honestly doesn't know if she can, she certainly can't talk, but he's still thrusting into her and that certainly doesn't leave her indifferent. Sweet Lord, is she out of it. Might as well. She lets the pleasure creep back in, pushing her ass back against him whenever she can. It's not his full strength but there is definitely some vampire strength in there, Alexei could have never fucked her this hard. She'd take a hand and scratch him but she needs both to steady herself. Very little finesse but he consistently slams the pleasure into her.

He presses the heel of his hand against her pubic bone and she wonders what he's doing, but then he presses it in  _ above _ and that is  _ worse _ , way more intense, the electricity is coursing through her body, hair standing, she must be so tight, the currents increase and she whelps, submitting to the natural force crashing down on her, fuckfuckfuck.

He slams into her one last time, pulsing, and she is  _ so  _ out but still twitches around him faintly. He groans, carefully collapsing forward, pressing her even more against the wall. He smells sweaty, which she never noticed on him before. She shudders happily, post-coital hormones kicking in. "Mhm. I really liked that."

"Oh yeah," he mutters, smug with amusement. "I noticed."

"Did you, now," she breathes against the plaster. "Was it the smell or the heartbeat?"

"The screaming, mostly," he replies. "Pretty unmistakable."

"So you're like everyone else after all," she remarks.

He snorts. "Have to say, you smell even better now. Don't know why. Maybe fucked out. Satisfied."

Her vagina definitely feels put through the mangle, beautifully sore. "Yeah, be glad my vagina doesn't have taste buds, because I wouldn't let your cum anywhere near."

"I think that was just the very first," he mutters, slipping out of her and picking her up to carry her to an armchair, dropping into it himself. "Oh man, I need to sit for a while."

"Mhm." She traces his jawline. "What do you mean, just the very first?"

"I smell it right now," he replies, eyes closed. "And it's… not like that. I don't like the smell, but it's nowhere close. Guess the first one was just really really old."

"Like, 50 years old."

"Yep."

"Ewwwwww!" She pulls a face. "That's  _ disgusting _ ."

"Yeah, if I'd known, we would have gotten rid of that some other way," he remarks. "Sorry. Yeah, but now smells pretty fresh, don't worry."

"I never wanted to spend this amount of time thinking about your sperm," she complains.

"Yeah, me either," he returns. "But the two orgasms, I guess the first one really throws out the old stuff and the second's fresh. Why, don't ask me. Maybe my body just can't… build it back, you know."

"That's still disgusting," she returns. "Last time we had sex was over a week ago. Does that mean you just pumped your week-old sperm into me? Eww. I'll make you jerk off before next time."

"Can't," he replies. "Sounds dumb, but I literally can't."

She snorts. Great, more details. But she's also curious. "Which part? Do I have to show you?"

"I can't get an erection unless you're touching me," he explains. "I mean, makes sense, my hand is usually cold and hard and not very arousing. Right now, warm all over. So you could jerk me off, no issue, or maybe I could jerk myself off if you'd sufficiently touched me before, but yeah, me and my hand, that's just dead, no matter what I touch or think."

"Just me?" she questions. "Or any human?"

"Only you warm my cold, cold heart," he jokes. "No, seriously, I don't know, I don't touch other humans."

"Didn't Bruce sorta touch your skin?" she asks. "So if he asked you to ejaculate in a cup, for science, ya know, you couldn't? But if he jerked you off, maybe?"

"Ew." Now he pulls a face. "Not interested."

"I got your stinking stone age sperm in my mouth," she reminds him. "I think I get a pass on that."

"I mean, there's still psychology there," he remarks, rocking her slightly in his lap. "Only you do it for me right now. I don't know if I could be attracted to other humans, though. Maybe. But only if I felt something for them, emotionally. Maybe not at all."

Oh, that's getting a little too touchy-feely now. "Hope you can."

"Seriously?" he asks.

"Yeah, sure." She shrugs. "If your vampirism forces you to be with me, and only me… I'd prefer if you fuck me because you want to, and you could fuck other people, too. If it's a choice."

He snorts, head dropping back. "Being a vampire isn't great for choices, you know."

"Killing humans is a choice," she remarks. "Despite the urges. I don't know about your mind control thing, though."

"Haven't felt that in weeks," he mutters. "Really don't know what's going on. Kinda scary."

"You should tell Bruce about that," she advises. "Maybe he can make something of it."

"Maybe," he repeats, sounding unconvinced. "Uh, something else, I went to the Castle again. Told them you're close to flipping. Yeah, but they noticed you guys trailing their hunting party, so they might move them soon."

She groans. "Fuck. Which one?"

"Barrandov," he replies. "I got the one in Bílá Hora down, by the way. Know their smells and hiding places."

"Oh, that's okay, I think we didn't have that one nailed down either way," she replies, brushing her damp hair back. "Stop staring at my boobs, your fifty-year-old sperm really turned me off."

He snorts. "Can't, anyway, don't worry. I just like looking at them. You want to know what really bothers me?"

"Other than your fifty-year-old sperm?" she asks.

He rolls his eyes and shows her his claws, the dark greyish horn growing out of his fingers instead of nails. Sharp and pointy. "Touching's fine but I can't finger you without ripping you apart."

"Mhm, that's bad," she agrees, leaning back and clasping her knee. "But they're really useful in a fight."

"Swear to God, once this is all over and Schmidt's dead, I'll cut them off," he promises, leaning in to kiss her. "My promise to you."

She giggles. "Clipped. Like a canary."

He grabs her head and licks over her neck, under her jaw. "Mhm. Then I'll get you off until you forget your name."

"Think you're overselling it," she remarks, slipping out of his lap and pulling her panties up. "So, do you plan on staying here for the day? I should head back some time, lots of stuff going on at the tower."

"I should sleep," he replies. "Think I'm going back to Bílá Hora. So, tomorrow night? I'll ruin you again, sweetheart, promise."

She snorts, instantly rebelling against anything that suggests a stable arrangement, a stable relationship. Like with Alexei. "You're awfully confident. You should stop by the tower, though, Bruce will have a lot of questions and Tony probably wants to measure stuff on your arm or something."

He pulls a face. Oh, maybe he just wants to screw her after all. "I'll think about it."

"No, you'll be there," she hisses, tugging her suit back up. "That's for you, after all, you idiot. Your fucked-up arm and your fucked-up brain."

"Weren't you all big on choices before?" he asks sourly. "Sorry if you're disgusted, if you hate me, but I _can't_ _fucking change it_."

"You're fucking insane," she returns, picking up her belt, not bothering with pulling her zipper up. "You think it's all fun and fucking, it's  _ not _ . This is dead serious and you better do your fucking part, or I don't even want to think about it."

"Wait," he interrupts. "Don't go. I don't wanna get you-"

She slams the door shut behind her.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some plot for a change.

"I'm not sure that's actionable," Pepper remarks. "We don't want to burn our source, after all."

"It's useless anyway if we don't know  _ where _ they'll move," Fury states coldly. "So nothing changes. You'll keep observing Barrandov and once they pack up and leave, we'll start patrolling the entire city until we find them again. The other ones are located, yes?"

"Yes," Sharon confirms. "We'll pull back now in order not to make them suspicious, only check in once in a while that they're still there."

"Bílá Hora's under control," Natasha mutters. "That's what he said."

"Time's running out," Fury reminds them. "So, how is the ice block?"

"I don't know," Tony replies. "How are you?"

"Fuck off," Natasha hisses.

"I was talking to Fury," Tony replies graciously. "It turns out you can actually be a nice person, you just don't like  _ us _ ."

"Stop acting like fucking children," Fury interrupts. "Banner?"

Bruce rubs the dark circles under his eyes. "I don't know. I looked at the vampire blood and it's got some properties that… The frozen man might have not gotten frost damage, my colleagues might be right about that, but if we're going to thaw him, we'll need to reconstruct a lot of tissue. And maybe injecting him with vampire blood could do that. I might be colossally wrong, though."

"You'd turn him into a vampire," Fury states.

"Injecting vampire blood does not turn you into a vampire," Bruce replies. "That has been extensively studied, in Russia, ask Natasha. Only the poison bite. I looked at the poison and the blood and… it's not very scientific but think of a beehive. The vampire cells in the blood are workers, they can't reproduce, so they just do their job until they fall apart. The poison, though, has the bee queens. They keep churning out workers and new queen cells, and that never ends. So, if we inject him with vampire blood, the workers will repair his body and then die, leaving him a functioning and human body. I hope. Again, I'm at the very start of understanding this massively complex system, it might totally backfire."

"The guy also must have frozen really really quick," Tony adds. "So there would be no real cause of death. He's just frozen in time."

"Do we even know if it's a guy?" Pepper asks critically. "You can't really make that out, in the ice."

Tony snorts. "Well, if it's a woman, she's certainly very tall and has very broad shoulders, cupcake."

"But we have no idea who he is," Clint remarks.

"None," Fury confirms. "They fished him out off the coast of Norway. He was inside some sort of plane but the cold salt water has corroded that so badly they haven't figured it out yet."

"But you'd need a lot of vampire blood, right?" Sam asks. "For his whole body."

"Oh yeah." Bruce rubs his eyes again. "A lot."

"I don't think Natasha's friend will give us that," Tony comments. "Depending on how much she has him under her thumb."

Yeah, they're not even on good terms. "Not an option. I could get a little, probably, but not  _ a lot _ ."

"What if we smoke out a hunting party?" Sam suggests. "The one near Central Station. Three vampires. I mean, the Castle won't be surprised that we're hunting them."

"We couldn't hit them with silver, though," Sharon objects. "Contaminates the blood."

"That's gonna be tough," Clint remarks. "Without our weapons."

"We can still break their bones," Natasha argues. "Snap their necks. Cut their heads off with anything that's not silver. Even if we can't fully kill them, we can incapacitate them enough that we can get their blood, and then we can drive a wooden stick through their hearts."

"You're vicious," Tony remarks. "Seriously, you want to bring live vampires into the lab?"

"I'm not comfortable with that," Bruce announces. "Also, the UV traps will burn them to a crisp, even if you drag them in here."

"Turn them off for a short while," Sam suggests. "We're not going to be overrun because of that. And collecting the blood outside the lab is just not possible, we don't have the equipment for that."

"True," Bruce admits. "Maybe we could… cordon a part off for that."

"So," Fury states. "A raid."

"We are a lot of people," Clint admits. "Only three vampires, even if they're trained. It's doable."

"We were going to do it sooner or later anyway," Pepper reminds them.

"Barton, Carter, you know all the exits, draw up a plan," Fury orders. "Everyone else, keep staking out Barrandov, even if it's pointless, keep up the appearances. Banner and Stark stay in the lab, of course."

"My… friend might stop by tonight," Natasha offers. "Not sure, though."

"Might?" Tony repeats. "I better fucking hope he does. I really need the X-ray. Yeah, yeah, it won't kill him, we checked."

"Well, then we're all good," Fury remarks. "Now, get the fuck to sleep, you all look like zombies."

* * *

She sleeps late into the afternoon. Sharon is in the gym, boxing against a sandbag. She almost turns right around but has already been noticed. "Oh. Hey."

"Hey," Natasha replies unenthusiastically.

"I'm not that good in unarmed hand-to-hand," Sharon admits, punching the sandbag again. "So I thought I'd train a little. Did you sleep well?"

"No," Natasha confesses. "Bunch of nightmares."

"Mhm." Sharon lowers her fists, breathing, sweat forming on her forehead. "I get those, too. I think every hunter does."

"Maybe," Natasha sort of agrees. "Uh, we could try sparring, if you want."

"Oh, sure." Sharon unwraps her hands. "You should get warmed up, though."

Natasha sighs, grabbing a jumping rope. "Right. Give me a minute."

"Mhm, sure." Sharon rolls her head slightly. "You didn't seem very happy this morning, if I may say so. Something with your friend?"

Natasha snorts, over the whipping sound. Yeah, how can she explain that. "I might have pissed him off again."

Sharon shrugs. "Happens, right? What was it about?"

She finds she doesn't want Sharon to view his involvement in their endeavor with suspicion. "I don't know. Just the- mixing of an interpersonal relationship and work, I guess. That always kills it."

"Quite the opposite, I'd say," Sharon disagrees. "He wouldn't be here if not for you, after all. You should be proud of that."

She's running out of breath, so she just bites her lip and says nothing, skipping over the rope. Sharon starts stretching, quietly. Someone's in the kitchen, frying something noisefully. Natasha stops, finding she kind of wants to talk. If it works for Pepper and Sharon and everyone else, really, why not for her? "I just- I don't know if- No, I guess that's too much."

"No, no, tell me," Sharon encourages. "Anything. Won't tell anyone else, promise."

Natasha sighs and goes to stuff the rope away, avoiding eye contact. "Maybe it's dumb but- what if he just wants sex?"

It's out, as cringy as it is. "Oh," Sharon remarks, pushing up and sweeping a fashionable escaped strand of hair back. "Oh. No, that's not dumb. Not at all. He's a vampire, after all."

Natasha snorts absent-mindedly. Right. "Maybe not all vampire."

"This job takes a lot," Sharon goes on. "Physically and mentally and- just, how it changes you. But there's gotta be limits. And sleeping with a vampire is one of those, I'd say."

Oh. Now she feels- every time she tries to do the same things as everyone else, the normal things, she ends up feeling bad about herself, like she's different, almost  _ in _ human. "Forget about it."

"No, no, that's a totally real concern," Sharon interrupts. "You shouldn't feel that, just because he's helping us, that you have to do everything to keep him hooked. No one can ask that of you. Draw a line. And for him, just… just keep him at arm's length, as much as possible, without totally driving him away, of course."

Turns out Sharon is way more cynical than she looks. "No, really, forget about it. Come on, get in the ring."

Natasha holds the ropes up for her. "I'm glad you're talking to me, though," Sharon remarks, climbing through. "So, what are we doing?"

Natasha shrugs, feeling more comfortable. "Dunno. You have some training, right? Not a total beginner?" Sharon nods. "Okay, then let's just go. Hit me."

Sharon breathes deeply, taking a fighting stance. She strikes out with a hit and a kick, but Natasha grabs her leg, pulls it up and throws her down. Sharon hits the ground hard. Natasha doesn't waste time, moving to side control, pinning her opponent to the ground from the side of her torso, applying weight to her chest, slamming her chin up so that she can't bite- oh, tapping out. Shit. She gets up quickly. "Oh, sorry. You okay?"

"Yeah," Sharon rasps out, rubbing her jaw. "Wow, you really don't pull your punches."

"Habit," Natasha admits, pulling her up. "Vampire's way stronger, way faster, can't take any chances."

"No, you're right," Sharon agrees. "Did you do that a lot?"

Natasha shrugs. "In the beginning, when we didn't yet know what would work… we just broke them down, physically, incapacitate them, then cut off their head, burn them, all that. Wasn't very refined. Didn't have good tools either."

"Sounds brutal," Sharon remarks.

"Certainly," Natasha confirms. "Wanna go on?"

"Oh yeah," Sharon says. "Don't wanna get eaten by vampires after all."

* * *

"Uh, hey," Natasha remarks. "Can I ask you something weird?"

"Great start," Sam comments, licking his finger. "Why, what is it?"

"Do you think I should pray?" Natasha asks, picking around her salad. "Even if I don't believe? Or is that blasphemous?"

Sam chuckles. "I don't know. Do you feel like praying?"

"I definitely feel like I should do something," she replies. "Something that's not… running around and killing things, you know? Something  _ pure _ ."

"Try cooking," Sam suggests. "No, really. Praying is kind of like talking to Allah, and if you don't believe in that, it's probably weird. Or meditation. Everyone's different."

Natasha snorts. "Thanks, I already spend enough time sitting around and thinking, I don't need more of that."

"So you need a hobby?" Sam asks. "To keep busy?"

"I guess I wanna- something that feels better," Natasha explains. "Something that makes  _ me  _ feel better, about myself and all."

"I get it, it's grinding," Sam allows. "Yeah, you can try praying, if you want, no harm in that. But maybe you already know something that lifts your mood and you just forgot?"

"Maybe," Natasha admits. "I'll think about it. Uh, sun's going down, I guess I should leave you to it."

Sam snorts, grabbing his plate. "Wow. Are you the sharia police now?"

"No, no, I just don't wanna- I don't wanna keep you from it, really," Natasha repeats. "Think I'll go upstairs again, take a nap."

"Good idea," Sam remarks. "Sleeping is definitely keeping me sane."

* * *

She doesn't actually sleep, just lies awake staring at the ceiling, mulling over the intractable uneasy feeling, so the knock doesn't startle her. "Yes."

"Your friend doesn't wanna submit to more tests," Tony's voice says. "You need to get down here and make him."

Anger bubbles up in her chest. "I'm not forcing him to do anything."

Tony sighs with exhaustion. "Just come on down. He says he wants to talk to you."

Well, she doesn't want to talk to him, after slamming the door last time, which was totally dumb and overreacting and pointless. Urgh. Hasn't she sufficiently proven she is horrible at this, this whole human shtick? She thought at least this… "Fine. Be down in a few minutes."

She doesn't bother getting dressed, just a t-shirt and sweatpants, combing her hair to one side, and then she shuffles down to the lab. Autopilot. Bruce is talking about some scan he wants to do, trying to calm and reassure a James who's clearly not even listening. Tony is looking as annoyed as he sounded, slouching on a chair arms crossed. "Oh, good that you're here," Bruce exclaims. "We actually found a way we can do the MRI, despite the metal in his arm, and in his teeth, I should add, so you just need to tell-"

"We need to talk," James interrupts.

Great. Phrase she loves to hear. "Fine. Let's  _ talk _ ."

"Not that door," Tony interjects, tapping one foot. "That way's the ice block."

There's another door, fortunately, though it does have a glass pane. Will have to do. James has a quizzical look as he closes the door behind him. "What does he mean by ice block?"

"Long story," Natasha replies, crossing her arms. Another room with unholy amounts of lab equipment, for God knows what. "So. If it's about the fact that I was shitty to you last time, last night-"

"It's not about that," James interrupts.

"Oh." Somehow, that's worse. "What is it, then?"

"I'm going to leave town," he states. "And so should you. And everyone else, probably."

"What?" Oh, she was  _ so  _ right, he's just going to disappoint her. "Are you crazy?"

"There's another black cloak," James states. "In Prague. Arrived last night. I managed to avoid him so far but it's clear Schmidt sent him either after you or after me, in any case we need to-"

"Are you panicking?" Natasha asks.

"Am I- of course I'm panicking!" James groans. "The game's up and we need to see to it that you get out of it alive, that nobody's hurt because of my dumb-"

"Maybe it's not up," Natasha suggests. "Maybe he was just told to check in with you, see how it's going, that you're still doing as you're told. Then we'd just need to convince him everything is alright and boom, problem solved."

"You don't know him," James points out. "He's not going to leave without you, dead or alive. God, I thought he was in America anyways, that means we have to calculate with even more black cloaks-"

"James," she interrupts again. "I'm not going anywhere. Dead or alive."

"I can't stand the thought of you-" He sighs. "Run. Please. Just run. If you care for me, just a little bit, run."

"That's a real low blow," she remarks.

He rolls his almost white eyes. "I don't want anything to happen to you, doll, and this guy is going to drag you straight to hell and I just can't let that happen. Look, I would have liked to- be with you, really, but the only place you'll be safe is far from all this. Far from me. I can't protect you."

She breathes out. It's not like the prospect of another black cloak leaves her unfazed. "I think- I think we should talk to the others."

"It's not about them," he says. "It's about you. He's after you. Schmidt's after you. They don't understand, or they don't want to believe… but I know you need to run. It'll be hard but you're shrewd, you'll keep them off your tracks. I wish I could help you, I really do, but you'll only be safe far from me."

"No, you don't understand," Natasha returns. "We're a  _ team _ ."

* * *

"This is bad," Clint remarks. "Really fucking bad."

"Are you sure it's-" Sharon tries.

"Yes," James snaps. "I'm sure. Absolutely fucking sure."

"Well, there's only one real solution," Sam remarks. "And I don't say this lightly, but we have to kill him. Simple as that."

"Nowhere near fucking easy, though," Tony replies. "Unless he's, like, the weakest black cloak in existence."

"He's not," James states coldly.

Clint groans. "If we don't kill him, he'll abduct Nat," Sam points out. "Or he'll tell Schmidt what's really going on, and then we have all black cloaks crushing down on us. When is your deadline again?"

"About 25 days," Natasha says. "And we're nowhere near ready."

"If we'll ever be," Tony mutters.

"Maybe we could convince him it's all right without Natasha?" Sharon suggests. "If she stays in here? He couldn't break in, right?"

"I can break in," James states coldly. "So Pierce can also break in."

"Seems we're back at killing him," Fury remarks. "Are you up for that?"

"Me?" James asks incredulously. "I'm- I don't know. He's  _ strong.  _ Maybe. It's a toss-up."

"And you don't want to risk that," Tony accuses.

"I don't give a fuck about dying," James returns coldly. "But if he kills me, Natalia's time is up. That's why she needs to run, right fucking now."

"I'm not going anywhere," Natasha repeats. "We always calculated we had to kill some amount of black cloaks at the end of this. This is only one. We'll kill him, as quietly as possible, without James' help, so that no one gets suspicious. And then we proceed as planned."

"We could upgrade the tower security," Bruce remarks. "We made you a mask and goggles and a hood, so you'd be safe from it. And then we could stay in until we're ready."

"This may be a bad idea," Pepper suggests. "But why don't you just talk to him, find out what his orders are?"

"Talk to him?" James repeats surprised. "What the hell would I tell him why this is taking so long?"

"Same thing you told the Castle," Natasha replies. "I'm stubborn as hell. That's pretty evident."

"Is Schmidt going to get suspicious?" Sam asks. "If his guy doesn't return in the next three weeks?"

James breathes out. "I don't know. Maybe not. Probably not. It's likely he'll just stay on until the deadline and then drag her to Schmidt, whether she wants to or not. Communication with Schmidt is difficult. I guess I could… ask Pierce."

"Different question," Sharon throws in. "Who's going out tonight? Are we still doing that?"

Clint groans. "Sam and I were supposed to. But I'm not very keen on dying, unlike certain other people."

"But we haven't seen the black cloak yet," Sharon argues. "And he probably knows that. So if we start holing up in here now, it's suspicious because we don't officially know yet."

"I don't think he'll randomly attack you," James says. "Not his style. But I could follow you, if you want, and distract him if he makes a move."

Clint clearly doesn't like putting his life in James' vampire hands. "Good enough for me," Sam states.

"I could… teach you some stuff," James suggests hesitantly. "What works against vampires. If you are really going to kill Pierce."

"You couldn't have done that earlier?" Tony questions.

James snorts. "Let's be honest, you just would have used it to kill me."

Silence. "Maybe," Fury acknowledges. "What changed?"

"I don't give a fuck anymore," James states coldly. "I want Natalia to get out of this alive. That's all I care about at this point."

"No one's dying on my watch," Fury returns. "Especially not Romanoff."

"What tricks, though?" Pepper asks, leaning on the table. "I'm curious."

"There's a few," James replies, nostrils flaring lightly. Yeah, he smells the blood. "Electricity, for instance."

"I thought electricity doesn't work," Tony points out.

"It doesn't kill a vampire," James acknowledges. "But it knocks out our senses, at a certain intensity. It's very painful and disorienting."

Tony grins widely. "Oh, I'd love to try  _ that _ ."

"Wilson, Barton," Fury interjects. "Are you ready to go out?"

Clint shrugs, Sam nods. "Guess we have to," Clint says. "I'd appreciate the backup, though."

"If you come back before sunrise and stay the day, I promise I'll stop Tony from electrocuting you," Natasha suggests to James.

"Oh yeah," Sam agrees. "There's a lot to talk about."


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Backstory and smut.

It's surprising she comes down the stairs and he's just sitting there, all the kitchen windows darkened. The goggles, mask and hood on the counter in front of him. She rolls her shoulders, grabs a pan. "Did they release you now?"

"Did all their tests," he replies. "And told Sam everything I know about the Castle. And… I guess that's it."

She hums. "Still don't eat?"

He shakes his head. "And I met Pierce and… just told him egregious bullshit, I hope he bought it."

"Like what?" she asks, cracking an egg.

He's clearly uncomfortable with the topic. "Well, I smell of human, of you, even now, and he noticed and… I had to give him something? So I told him I'd been feeding a little on you and that you're fascinated by vampires and all and you're just not quite at becoming one yet, that sort of thing."

"So you told him I'm a slut for vampires," she states.

He groans. "I guess. In effect. Look, I didn't like doing that, I know you hate vampires and find them disgusting and all."

She sighs, swirling the oil in the pan. "I don't- that's not- is that about the other night?"

"That's what you said," he reminds her. "That I'm disgusting and fucked up and- I don't wanna be like this either, I didn't choose to be this way, and I'm sorry you need me right now but- I guess you're really better off without me, in every way."

"I said your arm is fucked up," she interrupts. "Because it is. And your head is fucked up, because apparently Schmidt can just order you around, but- none of that is you! That's something you need to take care of, but it doesn't say anything about who you are."

"Sweetheart, I can see it in your eyes," he says. "There's a part of you that wants to kill me. And I don't blame you, I'd probably want to kill me, too, if I were you. I should just stop bothering you."

She doesn't have anything adequate to reply, so she changes the topic. "Pierce is the one I want to kill. And I think I could gain enough of his trust that I'd be able to."

"You don't know him," James repeats. "He's ruthless. He's been Schmidt's guy in America for years, playing nice but brutally punishing everyone who steps out of line. Rules with an iron fist. The only reason you have value to him is because Schmidt said so."

"I could change that," she suggests. "After all, I seduced one vampire, who says I can't seduce a second?"

"I don't like that," he remarks.

She snorts, cutting up some bacon. "Of course you don't."

"It's not about that," he argues. "Pierce is different. You couldn't- that's incredibly dangerous."

She shrugs. "No shit. But it clearly works on a physical level, and if he's anywhere near as out of his depth as you are around that, that would definitely give me a chance to slam a silver dagger into his cold dead heart."

"I'm out of my depth?" he repeats. "Not what it sounded like, doll."

"You're incredibly awkward," she points out. "Though it's getting better. I mean, I don't like doing it, but if that's what it takes…"

"You could just do that to me, couldn't you," he remarks.

She grins. "Scared?"

He smirks, wincing at the fang peeking out. "Honestly, not the worst thing I could imagine."

"You're really self-conscious about the fangs, aren't you," she remarks, scrambling the egg.

"I don't like them," he admits. "Thought about knocking them out, getting rid of them, but that's very painful. And they grow back."

"So you want to get rid of the fangs and the claws," she states. "All the vampire stuff."

"I don't like being  _ this _ ," he says. "This thing that- you hate, you're disgusted by, I don't wanna be that. If I could… be something that's not dangerous to you, not so rotten to the core, I would."

That's actually how she feels. "You know, the… vampire thing, that's not  _ you _ . Maybe you can't get rid of it, right now at least, but you can control it, and that's all that matters."

"I don't want to think these thoughts," he states. "Even if… to smell these things, my mere presence is making you uncomfortable, putting you on guard, and I can't help but be something you don't want- Invasive, is what you said and- it's worse than you think."

"Is it?" she asks. "I always think it's worse."

"Every time I smell you, I kind of want to bite you," he confesses. "Especially with your neck uncovered- you just smell- and maybe it would be better if I didn't have the fangs, if I forced them out, even if it hurts, then I wouldn't look at your neck and think about sinking my teeth into it, I don't wanna hurt you but-"

"Are you low on blood?" she asks. "When did you last feed?"

He groans. "That's not the point."

"It is," she replies. "I know I smell delicious to you when you're hungry. So we just have to manage so that you're not hungry."

"You have way better things to do than manage me," he returns.

"I'm not managing you," she repeats. "I'm managing your vampirism, with you. That's not you. And maybe you're right and there's a part of me that just wants to kill every vampire, but you're not really a vampire to me, you know? And I know I'm not especially cuddly and friendly and all but I definitely don't hate you and I don't want to kill you and I don't find you disgusting. Except for that one thing, which was objectively disgusting, but I guess that's just human."

"I'm not human, though," he reminds her.

She shrugs, scratching the egg out of the pan. "I'm not sure what that means anymore."

* * *

The day is long, though, and they eventually retreat to bed, her bed. She runs her fingers over the scars on his warm and pale torso. "Any of them from Pierce?"

He snorts. "Probably. I really don't remember. This one, maybe."

"On your arm?" she asks. "Wow, that's a broad one. Could be from a fang."

"Scratching, biting, it's really kindergarten," he replies. "I mean, they don't give us silver daggers or wooden sticks."

"If you don't need them," she agrees, putting one forearm on his chest. "That one was a fang. More of a graze. They weren't ready to behead me, especially Alexei, because I was the only girl and they were a bunch of sentimentals, so they locked me up for a few days and waited whether I would turn. Turns out I was lucky."

"Dodged the bullet," he mutters, feeling the scar. His claw grates lightly over her skin, just the width of most of the scars.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Sure," he replies, full palm coming to her forearm, stroking the marred skin. "Anything."

"What happened to Ivan?"

His hand stops, then he drops it next to his head, staring at the stone ceiling, sighing. "Are you sure you want to know that?"

"I can handle it," she replies. "Just tell me."

"Well, you know he was badly injured," he starts. "He killed the fledglings but he was badly injured. He knew he was dying so he turned himself in to Schmidt's underlings. They weren't allowed to turn him, of course, but… they knew he had value, to Schmidt, so they managed not to eat him. When I arrived, he was begging me to bite him, and I did, but… he didn't take to it at all. I'm sorry but he died very slowly and painfully. Might have been better if one of the underlings had just sucked him dry."

"So you're telling me the man who hated vampires with every fiber of his being wanted to become one," she whispers.

"He was dying," James reckons. "He must have thought that, even as a vampire, he could still hunt other vampires. Maybe it's good that he didn't survive to see himself turn into a monster."

"So he died before turning?" she questions. "How?"

"I don't know," James replies. "His body didn't respond well to the poison, the virus. He had a fever and his chest went all grey and- his heart stopped multiple times. He was in a lot of pain."

"Shrapnel," she whispers. "He had shrapnel just above his heart, from an explosion in Afghanistan. Maybe some of it was silver."

"I don't know," he says. "I really don't. Sometimes, it just goes horribly wrong. I'm sorry, he… seemed like a good man."

"It's okay," she replies, even though it's not. "Did he… say something? Before he died?"

"He was in a lot of pain," he repeats. "But when he was more delirious… he told us not to go after you guys. After Natalia. He still felt he had to protect you."

"Most of his friends were dead already," Natasha says. "And Alexei was growing more frantic by the day and… I guess our team already died with Ivan. He was the only thing keeping us together."

"You didn't need the protection, though," he points out.

"A lone hunter is a dead hunter," she replies. "Is that… is that why you call me Natalia? Because that's what Vanya called me?"

He grins. "I thought that was your real name."

She groans, rolling onto her back, kicking the sheets. "Oh God, you clueless American."

He puts his left arm on her other side, leaning over her. "I'll call you whatever you want, baby."

"Alexei called me baby," she returns dryly. "Малышка."

"And you killed him," he teases. "I see."

How can he make so fucking light of that. "Fuck off. Or you're next. I have a nickname, you know."

He grins, placing his right hand on her chest. "No, I know. I have to say, though, it's kind of reassuring that if I was a real monster, you'd kill me. So I guess I don't need to worry about that as much."

"You really thought I hate you?" she asks. "Or that I find you disgusting? Come on. Actions speak louder than words."

"You say it a lot, though," he returns, drawing circles on her sternum. "I don't know, maybe I just heard it that way because it's something I already believed."

"I don't fuck guys that I hate or find disgusting," she informs him. "Also, maybe going vampire hunting with the Afghanistan vets broke my nicety generator."

He snorts. "Was that hard? As a girl?"

"Honestly, not at all," she replies. "Though I sometimes felt like their mascot. They were all extra nice to me. The only downside is probably that I unlearned how to act like a woman."

He looks her up and down, the bra and panties she's not wearing. "I don't know, I think you're doing it just fine."

"Fuck off," she repeats. "Really, every time I try and talk to Pepper or Sharon, I feel like I'm not even from this planet."

"They like you, though," he objects. "Isn't that what matters?"

"Mhm." She leans up to kiss him. "And I like you. That's what matters. Not that you're a vampire."

He grins. "Aww. I like you, too. From my cold cold heart."

She flips them over, placing a hand on his chest. "Doesn't feel cold."

"Your friend said I barely had room temperature," he remarks, putting his hand over hers. "Of course, you weren't there then."

"Room temperature?" she questions. "In the unheated cellar? Oh, forget about it, I wanna fuck you very slowly until the sun goes down."

He grins. "I can do slow. Or very fast. In between is too much for me, though."

"In between sounds boring," she remarks, kicking the blanket out of the way so she can straddle him properly. "So, you wanna put your first load up my throat or up my vagina or somewhere else?"

He moans audibly. "Your mouth felt great. Can't promise anything about the taste, though."

She snorts, scooting down. "I really don't know where you got the idea that I'm squeamish."

"Just a fair warning," he remarks. "Hey, come up here, I wanna lick you."

"Uh-uh." She yanks his shorts down. "You're focusing. So you notice just how un-disgusted I am by you."

He groans, head dropping back. He's already twitching. She licks up his shaft once and he twitches hard. "Hey. Eyes down here. You're watching every second of this."

His eyes dart down dutifully. He responds well to her commands, generally. She takes him in her hand and gives the tip a big salacious lick, making him shiver. She slurps him down noisefully, just about half, and just a little suction is enough to get the sticky white droplets, never much. He mewls. She sticks her tongue out, visibly smearing his semen on her upper lip, swallows, then licks the rest off of his tip, not caring that her saliva runs down the corners of her mouth, messy is the point. His hand comes to her hair, pulling slightly but unconvincingly. She's not one of those girls who can suck a rich guy's dick in so deep you wonder where it'll come out, but she swallows a little more than half of him down, pressing her tongue against, sucking. He groans loudly, pulling on her hair. "You can- you can stop. It's enough."

Idiot. She releases him, licking up some of the mess around her mouth, taking him into her hand and squeezing carefully but firmly. "You feel that? I could hurt you real bad right now."

He swallows, staring down at her. She feels powerful, less because of what she's doing and more because of how he's reacting. "But I don't wanna hurt you. So I won't."

He doesn't react when she lets go, still staring down. She grins, licking over her lips again. "Mhm. Ready to give me pleasure?"

"Doll," he rasps out. "Whatever you want."

"Riding your dick is fine," she replies, straddling him again. "Mhm. You smell that, what I'm smearing your dick with, don't you?"

His nostrils flare. "Would smell even better if you sat on my face."

"Boy, you're needy," she remarks, taking his cock and leading him into her. "Mhm. I hope that doesn't impact the fairly long time you usually last."

He sighs at her wetness engulfing him. "Quite the opposite, I'm afraid."

Oh. She grins. "Darling, I'll fuck you for two hours if I have to."

"Yeah, no, not two  _ hours _ ," he quickly says. "Maybe- fuck, you feel good. Fuck. Don't wanna give you unrealistic expectations here."

"How about I tell you when I'm satisfied," she suggests. "And then you can come."

He snorts. "You're never satisfied, are you."

"Sometimes," she allows, rolling her hips again, leaning down to kiss him. "Mhm. Still wanna bite me?"

His face crunches up. "Yes."

She holds her forearm out to him. "Just a little. Control yourself."

It seems to help him if she's the one saying it, if it's not just an internal debate inside his head. He slits her skin carefully with one fang, eagerly licking the blood out. She rolls her hips and he moans, sucking on her arm just for a fraction of a moment. She grins. "This is heaven to you, right?"

"In heaven, I wouldn't be a monster," he mutters into her skin.

"You're not a monster," she returns, ripping her arm back. "Stop saying that. I've seen monsters, I've seen people turn into monsters, and trust me, you are neither."

He smiles weakly. "Soon, you'll be either dead or a monster yourself, and it'll be all my fault."

"Oh, I'll be fine," she whispers. "If there's one thing I'm good at, it's not dying."

* * *

"Your friend's gone?" Clint asks. "Good. Keep thinking he'll jump up behind me. Why does he hate me?"

"He doesn't hate you," Natasha says, rattling the coffee machine. "I told him about the one time we had sex. He's just jealous."

Clint groans. "Why did you tell him that? Thought we agreed not to tell a living soul."

"Vampire loophole," she replies. The machine is still spluttering. "Come on, it's not that bad."

"Excuse me," Clint states. "You literally came here as Bobbi's replacement, you're younger than her- you know how midlife crisis that sounds?"

"I'm not gonna tell  _ Tony _ , relax," she counters. "Also, you're never going to reach seventy in this job, so it's definitely not  _ mid _ life."

Clint snorts, hitting some button that makes the spluttering stop. "Oh, I missed your cheery outlook on life. Uh, Sam's coming. So you still don't know how the coffee machine works."

She doesn't dignify that with a response, turning around. "Uh, hey. Coffee? Promise it works now."

Sam glides into a chair. "Yeah, thanks. Oh, man, I need to think about something else than floor plans."

"But it works?" Clint asks.

"Yeah." Sam rubs his temples. "The Castle… it's not the riskiest thing we've ever done. Not talking about the black cloak, of course."

"I maintain I could trick and kill him," Natasha repeats, switching mugs and pressing three buttons because she can never remember the right ones. "Alone."

"Your friend's not good for you, if he makes you this overconfident," Sam points out. "Couple of months ago, you would have  _ never  _ gone toe to toe with a black cloak."

"Maybe I'm better now," Natasha suggests.

Clint snorts. "Maybe your friend is an idiot. Seriously, what did you do to him? If he says one more time he doesn't care about everyone else kicking the bucket as long as you don't…"

"Oh yeah, I was wondering," Sam remarks. "Are you just crazy good at stringing him along, because that would be kinda cruel at this point, or… you know, is there a  _ there _ there?"

She feels her face flush. Damn light skin. "What do you mean?"

"Come on," Clint objects. "He's a vampire."

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Sam retreats, grabbing the other mug. "Just- just wondering. I don't know, maybe you're right and you can do that to the other black cloak, too. Whatever  _ that  _ is, it seems pretty powerful."


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Action!

"This is extraordinary," Bruce stresses. "There is this area in his brain, here, that seems to be where the virus set up camp- well, and it's not really doing a lot right now, as far as I can tell. I took new blood samples and the virus count is considerably lower than in the first, across the board."

"So he is- less infected?" Natasha asks. "Less vampire?"

"It could go up again," Bruce replies. "I have no idea why it went down. But yeah, the rest of his brain and body is working largely without that. Oh, I should say, I found more virus cells that I've never seen before, so it's probably not just one vampire virus but a whole cocktail."

She's still hung up on the first point. "And you have really no idea why the virus count is lower?"

"I really don't know," Bruce repeats. "It seems to be working at about replacement level now, producing just enough new virus cells to replace the ones that died. But I have a- not a theory, no, but- an idea, I guess, or parts of it."

"Well, just say it, then," she returns impatiently. "Stop being such a tease."

"Well, it's still a virus, right?" Bruce argues. "Or a virus cocktail. And viruses' main goal is to spread, to find new hosts. So it's probably related to that. Maybe it already spread, or at least thinks so."

She frowns. "What do you mean? I don't think he bit anyone recently."

"Yeah, but I took a sample of his poison, right?" Bruce asks. "That should be as good as biting someone. Maybe it's reproducing the poison now and can't therefore bother with other virus cells. And the poison production is just not showing on the MRI. I don't know, just a theory, what I'm thinking."

"No, you're right, that's interesting," Natasha agrees. "So he's… less vampire right now?"

Bruce snorts. "I don't know. That's kind of like saying he's less dead right now."

* * *

"Yup." Sharon crosses her arms. "There he is. Pierce. Looks like the Americans are really looking for him."

"Photos?" Pepper asks intrigued, leaning over her shoulder. "Wow. What database is this?"

"My dad worked in the CIA," Sharon replies. "Good connections. Yeah, and that's an archived version of the official government database. New enough for our purposes."

"Is there anything about him?" Natasha asks. "Other than where he was sighted over the years?"

Sharon scrolls down. "Well, looks like he's actually American. State department, CIA. Vietnam. Apparently, he disappeared and went looking for Schmidt. Looks like he found him."

"Vietnam?" Natasha asks. "Then he's a lot younger."

"20 to 30 years is still very old for a vampire," Pepper remarks.

"They say here he's really the boss in North America," Sharon adds. "Travelling from city to city and keeping the different groups in line. Though this is over a year old, so maybe he's handed it off. I didn't have the chance to travel and get a newer version."

"Yes, probably," Pepper agrees. "Otherwise he wouldn't be here, in Prague."

"He must have a new mission," Natasha remarks. "I mean, he was basically the ringleader over there. You don't just give that up to hop around Europe."

"You mean Schmidt's planning something?" Sharon asks. "Hm."

"Would explain why he wants to recruit you, all of a sudden," Pepper replies. "The question is what. Well, some kind of expansion, the question is where."

"Yeah, if only we knew that," Sharon mutters. "Uh, you probably wanna go through it on your own, right? Then we'll leave you to it."

"Oh, look," Pepper remarks. "A  _ bounty _ ."

Sharon grins. "Not sure you can cash in on that. Or what sort of evidence you need. They just want to motivate people to phone in as many hints as possible."

* * *

That guy really reads like the dangerous kind of asshole. Keeps his cards close to his chest. Never speaks what's actually on his mind. Looking for power, unlimited power. Found it, with Schmidt. Probably not reckless enough.

God, she's starting to get nervous about this. Wish she could talk to James but they agreed it's better if he's not spotted walking into the tower. Still, she's feeling off and that's not a good sign, with her instincts.

"You doubt yourself."

She turns around and Fury is there, hands in the pockets of his leather coat. "Who wouldn't," she argues. "Nobody's ever killed a black cloak, after all."

"That's not true," Fury replies, turning a chair. "Yes, it's extremely hard, but people have managed to trick them in the past. They are not almighty. Not invincible."

Natasha snorts. "Not sure that helps those who died."

Fury sits down. "I don't usually… talk about this."

As with almost everything. "Yes."

"But I once saw a black cloak," Fury states. "Eye to eye. Not a softie like your friend, the real deal. He was just about to kill me, and… I had acid but not a clear line of sight. I still sprayed it, though part came back to me. Hence the eye. And I remember very clearly… the moment it hit him, he looked  _ surprised _ ."

"They're not omniscient," Natasha remarks.

"Exactly," Fury agrees. "That, together with seeing your friend… maybe there is more of a human side to them than we give them credit for. And that's something you can use against them."

"That's what I intend to do," Natasha mutters.

"Be careful," Fury advises. "And always remember the first rule."

"I'd rather die than do Schmidt's bidding," Natasha replies.

Fury almost  _ smiles.  _ "Good. Don't doubt yourself. If I had to bet on who could kill a black cloak, it would be you."

* * *

The city's even more quiet the last few nights. It's weird going out alone, without Sharon, without Clint, not even knowing James is close by. She's really on her own. Nobody can help her now, nobody but herself.

The streets smell of blood. She follows the scent, the trail, through Karlín to Invalidovna, weird commercial area that's creepy at night. Construction site. The smell is strong around here. There's a hotel down the road with cars parked on the other side, just outside the reach of the UV lamps. One of them has the car door ripped off, driver's side, broken glass strewn on the street. Oh yeah, this is the right place.

She takes a foot track up to the trees, the railroad tracks somewhere behind. Wind rustles the leaves so it's hard to discern movement. She closes her eyes and smells. Blood. So much blood. Follows the smell, then stops and looks up.

The black cloak is crouching on a branch, a woman's body hanging next to him, lifeless but not yet completely dry. He must have been interrupted while feeding, blood smeared all around his mouth. He grins down on her, not caring about his meal. Gold-lined fangs. "Hello Natasha."

"You ripped her out of her car," she observes. "Just outside her hotel."

"They're getting reckless," he states, sniffing. His face is strangely ageless, with milky brown eyes, still some color left. "Which you allow them to be. They think they're safe inside, as if vampires couldn't break in."

"Oh yeah," Natasha replies. "Totally my fault."

He grins again, flashing even more bloodied teeth. He's wearing a business suit, despite the cold, very western. Very much the sophisticated vampire archetype. "They were right, though, you are good. Extraordinarily good. Found me immediately."

"Easy, just follow the smell of blood," she remarks. "You're just going to leave her hanging there?"

He drops off the branch, landing noiselessly, nose crunching up. "You do smell strange, I have to say."

"Yeah, I stink of vampire, I know," she states, not stepping back. "Small price for the strength injecting vampire blood gives me."

He frowns. "What a disgusting thing to do. Why would you do that when you could have the real thing?"

"At least I'm not locked in forever," she argues. "I'm not convinced yet it's worth it."

He takes out a paper tissue and starts wiping around his mouth. "Did the soldier not show you?"

"I'd prefer to have a second source," she replies.

She's knocked into the sky by a brick wall, grabbing on instinctively, going almost straight up, up, rushing towards the stars, cold night air, and then they're descending, she can see the  _ entire _ city, the ground's approaching faster and faster, this time it's no fun, she's gonna crack on the ground like a raw egg, claws on, closes her eyes and rolls in-

There's a less smooth landing and when she rips her eyes open, they're ping-ponging down a street, building to opposite building, faster and faster, and before she knows it, crashing through hard shattering glass.

She's  _ so  _ sick. Nothing feels particularly hurt but  _ boy.  _ Never again. She groans, closing her eyes.

She's crouching, as she notices after a while, not lying down, pile of broken glass. Cut somewhere on her cheek. The black cloak, Pierce, is standing there, observing her. Oh, she's going to throw up. "I have a message from Johann Schmidt."

"Just a second," she groans, leaning over her knees. Just get it out. "Jesus Christ."

"The world is changing," Pierce continues. "And Russia will be the vanguard of that change."

Yeah, she's heard that bullshit since kindergarten, though without vampires. Maybe Russia would prefer  _ not  _ being the vanguard for once. "You mean, he suddenly discovered we're actually not racially inferior."

"That was wrong," Pierce admits freely. "An error that will not be repeated. Your country has so much potential. Just as you do."

"What do you want from me?" she asks, pushing up carefully.

"Russia is edging closer and closer to the tipping point," Pierce explains. "It's inevitable that vampires will take their rightful place over society. All it needs is someone to guide it over the edge."

It's a regular living room. Maybe there's actually people next door. Maybe he already ate them. They crashed not only through a window but smashed a chair as well, pieces of wood between the glass shards. "Why me? Don't you have enough vampires?"

Pierce snorts. "You were there from the beginning. The country should have collapsed sooner, there was nothing holding it together."

"Other than the people," Natasha remarks.

"The soldier couldn't do it," Pierce states. "Karpov can't do it. But you, you could. You have the killer instinct to finally bring the people to their knees, where they belong."

"Mhm." She steps closer. "Is this about the propaganda?"

Pierce eyes her critically, her gun, the throwing stars, all her knives, clearly disapproving. She relents, stepping back and starting to put her weapons on the table. "Relax. Wouldn't be quick enough anyway."

"You could be," he replies. "The serum has been drastically improved. You might soon be one of the most powerful vampires."

"More powerful than you?" she asks.

He smiles crookedly, it doesn't curl nicely around the fangs. "You might."

"I don't buy  _ might _ ," she returns, leaning on the table. "You make a lot of promises."

"Schmidt will give you everything you want," Pierce promises. "If you fulfill your mission. Just as I have received everything."

"Everything," she repeats. "Really? That's all you wanted from life? Power?"

"Purpose," he says. "A better world and the means to bring it about, to do my part."

"You're tearing it down," she remarks, pushing away from the table.

"To build a better one," he replies. "Put that knife away."

She snorts, slamming it on the table. "Thorough. Doesn't seem fun, what you're doing."

"Doesn't seem fun what you're doing," he retorts. "Running around at night, killing ever new vampires, trying to stop a tidal wave that cannot be stopped."

"You don't eat," she states.

"Blood is delicious."

"You don't feel excitement."

"The thrill of the chase."

"You don't fuck."

"I-"

Natasha grins. "Gotcha."

"You are  _ primitive _ ," Pierce accuses.

"Please, you drop into blood frenzies," she returns. "That's primitive. Sex isn't. Sex is living, chasing, feasting, all in one."

"You'd give up power for  _ that _ ?" Pierce questions.

"Sex  _ is  _ power," she replies. "You understand power, don't you? Definitely something to take into account."

"For the weak."

Natasha smiles and unclasps her biteguard, slips off the gloves. "Let's see. Smell it?"

"Your blood won't tempt me," he states. "I just fed."

"Not blood." She pulls the zipper down some, rubbing over her wrists and neck. "Skin."

He sniffs involuntarily. "No."

"Fucking liar." She steps closer, now in his space. "I'm unarmed. If I'm wrong, no loss. If I'm right, you'll have learnt something."

He might be confused but his face doesn't give it away. Not like James'. He grabs her wrists when she gets too close, suddenly, forcefully. She rolls her eyes, twisting to dig her fingers into his cold hard skin. "How does that feel?"

"Scorching." His pupils contract.

She leans a little forward. "Breathe."

He probably smells her adrenaline, the utter lack of fear, maybe the  _ excitement _ . He frowns. "What is it about you that- the vampire blood? No, something-"

His skin is still cold as marble. "I don't know. Find it out."

He yanks on her right arm, baring her neck, leaning in and sniffing. Captivated. Well, it's scary to have a vampire so close to your unguarded neck. "Extraordinary. The strangest-"

His skin finally gives in under her digits, becoming malleable- He rips away, staring at his wrists and at her. "What have you done?"

"Nothing," she replies. "Absolutely nothing."

He squeezes the skin that is now as hard as ever, constantly  _ breathing _ , wondering what the hell- her back slams against the wall, knocked around, he pins her against and starts- but doesn't, she doesn't feel pain, his cold stone fingers melt, her neck holds undeniable attraction- oh, maybe this was a  _ horrible  _ idea.

He's a few steps away suddenly, blood flowing back into her fingers. She breathes, chest heaving. His pupils are huge. And-

He slams into her again, mouth on hers, fangs, blood, she can barely keep up, he's still stone but warming up, heated, she takes all her force and flips them, slamming him into the wall next to where she was, and he whips them around again, this time she gives in, lets him, lets the heat creep in, don't think about where the blood in his mouth came from, he yanks her left thigh up, the suit is good for a lot of things but not for blunt impact, blunt force. She's up in all of his senses, she can tell, blocking out everything else, the rush, scratching, pulling, slamming, he licks her neck like a horse licks up salt, God, vampires are  _ weird, _ she can feel his fangs poking in, caged-

She slams him into the wall again, arms already tiring, all up in his space, blocking out everything, hears her blood rushing in her ears, smells her adrenaline, knows it's the moment, knows knows knows, overwhelmed, blind, presses-

He convulses from the electric shock, screaming in agony, blind blind blind, quick, she grabs a piece of wood from the floor, unsharpened stool leg, and with the strength of the vampire blood, she slams the flat end through the stupid business suit, through his ribcage into his cold, dead heart.

Awful scream, she's knocked back, crashing into the table and against a wall, suit doesn't help, something trickles down her forehead, groans, fights herself up, the scream still rings in her ears, she's dizzy, bruised, forces her feet down and rises slowly, shakily. The black cloak has collapsed to the floor, chest drenched in dark blood, body convulsed, face contorted into that of an agonized animal, frozen. She spits out, disgusting blood, steps over him as the darkness creeps into his eyes. "Told you."

Something drops through the window, she spins, James. Blood's dripping down her forehead. He stares down at the convulsed body, the effect of the electric shock still visible. "I remember how that felt."

"Wooden stick through your heart?"

"The taser," he replies, pained expression. "I- you could have done that to me, too, couldn't you."

"No, that was very- I really needed to know it worked and how long I would have," she replies quickly, stepping back. "That was very helpful and- I know it hurt really bad, really, sorry, but I'm really grateful you let me and- I'd never try to drive a wooden stake into your heart."

"It's alright," he says, crouching over the body. Dark blood seems to be flowing into the dead eyes from the outside, like popped veins. "Yes, he's done for. Good job."

"How close were you?" she asks, picking up her weapons scattered on the ground.

"Not close enough to stop him from biting you," James replies, closing Pierce's eyes.

Her hand jerks to her exposed neck. "Did he-  _ fuck. _ "

"No, no, he didn't." James quickly rises, touching and tilting her neck. "I think. You still smell human. But let me check."

She holds her breath as his fingers dart over her skin, then the other side. "No, you're good. Little scratch but it smells clean."

She releases her breath. "Fuck. I- we need to get rid of the body."

"That was really risky, though," James points out. "He could've bitten you. I couldn't have stopped him, you couldn't have."

She's so full of adrenaline. "Yeah, I know, I know, but- are you mad? Jealous?"

James sighs. "Natalia. The body."

"Right." She rubs the blood from her forehead. "Rumlow's guys can't find out he's dead. We need to drop it somewhere so the sunlight will destroy it. Maybe- maybe rip his head off, too, just to be sure. The sun will come up in an hour and half."

"I'll put him somewhere close to the river," James says. "We need to take his clothes off, though. Uh, I understand if you don't want to do that."

"No, it's- it's alright," she replies, crouching down and dragging the jacket off one shoulder. "Or he won't burn quickly enough. Got it."

"You need to get inside, behind locked doors and windows," James adds, yanking the pants down. "You're bleeding."

"Yeah, yeah," Natasha breathes. "One thing after another."

They strip the black cloak down to his underwear, which- no. "I'll go to my place in Karlín," she states. "You take him away and join me there."

"Don't let anyone see you," James advises, picking up the awful disgusting body. "You're covered in vampire blood."

Shit, she is. Blunt object, right? "But you'll come back? And then we'll talk?"

He smiles. "Don't worry. I'll get it done."


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not sure how to warn you about this but there is one scene at the beginning that's very much not pretty, though ultimately turning out fine. Also some brutal action.

She's clean again, the wound on her head has stopped bleeding but it obviously still smells. She's pacing around the apartment restlessly. Maybe it's the adrenaline or the worry that James is mad at her, that she went too far, or- she just feels off. The nerves. Schmidt's going to want her dead now, as soon as he hears.

She's washing her face when she hears the balcony door, quickly dries it, grabs a pistol just to be safe. But it is James, in the living room, looking through the pile of bloody clothing. She leans in the doorway, crossing her legs. "James?"

He looks up, smirks, looks her up and down, only the black cloak tied around her neck and nothing else. "Oh Nat."

She smiles, even though she doesn't feel like it. "You weren't going to just leave, were you?"

"Sun's coming up," he reminds her.

"Stay." She walks over, taking his strangely warm hands. "Please."

He whirls her around and dips her, like in the old movies. "Sweetheart. If you insist."

She wants him to want her. More than she wants him. Oh, she's a wreck. Surges up to kiss him hungrily, grabbing onto his shoulders. Wants him to stay without asking, to grab her without prompting, to fuck her without waiting for permission. She's in a weird mood. He lowers her on the ground carefully, too slowly, breathing. "You do smell strange, though."

Maybe that's the needy feeling. "Good?"

"Awfully," he confirms, licking over her sternum. "Carnal. Not bloody, but… I don't know. You do know bad things happen to people who wear these things without permission, right?"

"Are you going to do bad things to me?" she asks. She doesn't sound like herself, neither the tone nor what she's saying. "Do you want to punish me?"

He breathes her in. "You smell- really, I don't know. How do you feel?"

"Answer my fucking question," she demands. "You pushover."

He growls, baring his fangs, yanking her towards him. "You're utterly helpless, dollface, so don't push it."

She's turned on and frustrated and swear to God. "Don't give me empty threats. You don't have it in you."

"Have  _ what _ in me," he scoffs, claws digging slightly into her hips. "Don't make me do something you don't want."

She's served herself on a silver plate, naked in the black cloak, and he's hardly done anything about it. "You're too weak to take what you want anyway."

His nostrils are flaring and his eyes are not normal. "You can't stop me."

"But you won't," she hisses, planting her feet. "You won't even try. Because you're soft."

His fangs sink into her shoulder, painfully, she groans loudly, and then he slams into her without warning, she is awfully dry and it  _ burns _ , hurts, worse than the shoulder, like turning a knife in- he's whispering scary stuff about how she's his and she suddenly doesn't recognize anything anymore, needs to make it stop right now, he impales her, jacks this impossible object up her vagina, she gets her feet against his shoulders and kicks, throws her head back and pleads with him to-

His face is above hers, still some of the crazy tinge in his eyes. "Is that part-"

"No," she whimpers. "Make it stop. Please. Stop."

She's curled into a ball, cradled, starts crying. It still hurts, even if he's not inside her anymore. Just a few seconds and- she has no idea what just happened, how she got into this mess. "Shit, doll," he mutters behind her. "I'm so sorry. I really didn't want to hurt you. I'm sorry."

She's crying so she can't- she doesn't understand it either, what got into her. Something runs down her shoulder. Blood. She shudders. "Did you-"

"No poison," he tries to assure her. "I promise. I didn't want to- I thought you wanted it rough but I didn't want to hurt you, really. I'm sorry."

It's like a different world. She has a bite wound on her shoulder. "Could you- suck on my shoulder? In case there is any trace of poison?"

"Whatever you want," he replies, rolling her onto her back. "But I really didn't poison you. Would never… but I never wanted to hurt you either."

It's quiet when he licks over her wound and sucks on it. She feels a little calmer but will break back into tears at any hint. Somehow weirdly estranged from her body. "I'm- I'm okay."

"Are you?" he asks. "You were talking strangely. Smell strange, too."

She sighs, tear pricking at her eyes. "I don't know what- what got into me. Didn't feel like- like me."

"I should get you back to the tower," he says, wrapping her in the cloak. "So you can get some rest. It's going to be okay."

"The sun's coming up," she protests weakly as he helps her up.

"Let's see whether your tinker's stuff actually works," he says. "Where's your suit?"

"Bathroom." She chews on her lip. He is off to the bathroom and she keeps talking to herself. "That was- creepy. Scary. I don't know- I don't know. I just wanna get home."

"I'll get you home." He shakes the suit out. "It's still wet but it's not far. I'll get rid of Pierce's clothes later."

"I'll- I'll take them," she suggests quietly, taking her suit from him. "Blood samples and- yeah."

He pulls out the mask, goggles and hood from under his cloak. "I'll step outside and try it out. Be right back."

She breathes deeply, bracing herself on the table. She's hot and shaky and slightly sick. Probably the mix of exhaustion and adrenaline and maybe she overdid it on the vampire blood. Fucked up her hormones. She should just get home, get into bed and sleep. Let her body sort it out.

The door opens again. He looks scary with the mask and goggles and the hood hooked into it, not leaving a sliver uncovered. "Seems fine. Are you ready?"

His voice sounds weird through the mask. She zips up the cold wet suit and grabs the bloodied vampire clothes. "Let's get home."

He opens the balcony door. "Yeah. It's just one jump."

* * *

The rest is fuzzy and she wakes up in her bed, ten hours later, still tired, alone. Sore, especially in her arms. Hungry. She shuffles into sweatpants and down the stairs, hearing voices from the kitchen. Stops for a moment, leaning against the wall. "Still can‘t believe she killed him," James' voice says. "All on her own. Just like that."

"Yeah, I know," Sam replies. "She's awesome. And scary. But, I mean, you taught her some of it at least."

"Some," James admits. "But-"

"Yeah?" Sam prompts.

"I think I love her."

"Oh yeah." Sam snorts softly. "Noticed."

Her stomach churns and she pads further down the stairs, rounding the corner into view. James sits up. "Hey."

"Hey," he replies. "Feel better?"

She rolls her head. "Some, yeah. Still exhausted. And really hungry."

"I'll make you eggs," Sam offers, slipping off his chair at the kitchen counter. "Sit down. You should take it slow for a while."

"Thanks." She sinks into his place, rubbing her eyes. "I think the vampire blood really fucked me up."

"It can be traumatic, fighting" Sam suggests carefully, pulling out a pan. "Even if you don't get hurt. Just the stress of it. Life or death."

"My head doesn't feel straight," she admits. "But it's alright. I'll get better."

Tony walks in, going straight for the vampire clothes on the table. "Oh wow. One of the magic cloaks."

James snorts. "Literally just a cloak."

"So it doesn't deflect bullets?" Tony questions, unfolding it, studying the fabric critically.

"It doesn't do shit," James replies. "Schmidt thinks it looks cool. Just a symbol."

"Power," Natasha mutters, drinking from Sam's glass.

"Sounds like a real bluffer, that Schmidt guy," Tony remarks, folding it up again. "Guess I shouldn't be surprised a nazi is into hierarchy and status symbols. The gold fangs, too?"

James sighs, touching one. "I guess. When they get knocked out, during a fight- which is very painful- they put gold in while they regrow so that the fang builds around. Also painful. It's supposed to make them a little stronger or something, but it's mostly show. Status."

"Really likes scare tactics, the guy," Sam remarks, cracking an egg.

"Oh, hey Nat," Tony interjects. "So you got him, huh? How'd that feel?"

"Exhausting," she replies, drinking from James' glass, too. "Scary. Confusing. I don't know, I just feel out of whack."

"It was a lot of vampire blood," Tony admits. "Maybe you should let Bruce have a look at it, once he gets up."

She has a bite wound on her shoulder that she can't explain. Would just get them unnecessarily concerned. "Thanks, but I'll just try to sleep it off for now."

"Fury's asleep, in case you were wondering," Sam adds, putting a glass of orange juice in front of her. "They'll congratulate you later. We just didn't know when you would wake up."

"That's alright," she mutters. "Can wait."

"What's that?" James asks as Sam spoons some powder into her juice.

"Protein powder," Sam explains, stirring. "With potassium, calcium, cholesterol. Thought she could use it."

"Thanks," she mutters.

"Pep will be down soon, too," Tony remarks, looking through the other clothes. "Oh, nice. Blood samples."

"Uh, my DNA is all over it, for obvious reasons," she remarks. "And I drove a wooden stake through his heart, so that might contaminate it as well."

"Are you going to stay for dinner?" Sam asks.

James looks surprised. "I don't really- eat."

"Yeah, I know," Sam replies. "Just hang around, if you want."

* * *

She almost falls asleep during dinner. James sits down on her bedside, caressing her cheek. "Sure you're going to be okay?"

"Just tired," she mutters, closing her eyes. "It- it wasn't your fault. Or my fault. I really didn't feel like myself."

"It was scary," he admits. "You know exactly where my pressure points are, don't you."

"Hm?" she makes, not opening her eyes.

"You sounded- kinda like Schmidt," he explains. "When he makes us fight. When being weak and soft and not tough and brutal enough gets you killed. That sorta thing- it gets into my head, you know."

"Wasn't intentional," she mutters. "It was scary for me, too."

He breathes out. "Otherwise, I never would have- your strangely alluring smell, too. I really thought that's what you wanted."

"I thought so, too," she whispers. "Maybe some- hormonal or gynaecological issue, and all the vampire blood- I don't know what happened."

"I should let you sleep," he says. "They'll look after you? I'd rather not risk being seen around the tower but you can always text me if you need anything."

"I'll be okay," she sighs. "Uh, do I still smell? Alluring?"

"Yeah." He pulls the blanket up to her neck. "A little less. But I can handle that, don't worry. The smell and if you talk like that, that's close to the edge, though."

"Won't," she mutters. "Mhm. Good night."

She doesn't even hear him leave the room anymore.

* * *

"You really eat a lot," Clint observes.

Sharon snorts. "Oh yeah. You kill a black cloak, let's see how hungry you are afterwards."

"Just observing," Clint retreats. "If she is hungry, she should eat. Just seems it really drained her, is all."

"I feel better already," Natasha remarks between bites. "Hungry like a wolf, though."

"We should plan our next step," Fury interrupts, empathetic and caring as always. "The hunting party. Without Romanoff, if she's not back on the wagon soon. We don't have forever."

"Little over two weeks," Sam agrees. "And honestly, Nat deserves it to sit this one out."

"I'll be fine in a day or two," she promises. "Or three. Don't worry."

"Don't put so much pressure on yourself," Pepper suggests. "We'll be fine, you can really take a break. Be back when it really matters."

"My estimate is that we need about six to eight litres of vampire blood," Bruce states. "More than a human has. It could be more, though. So it would be good if you could get at least two uncontaminated vampires, optimally all three."

"It clearly has side effects, though," Clint remarks. "Looking at Tasha. And that's only going to get worse if you give him eight full litres."

"It's not permanent," Natasha counters. "I'll be alright, really."

"I'd like to take a closer look at that, but I agree, it doesn't seem to be permanent," Bruce confirms. "And I mean, he's been frozen forever. It's definitely an improvement if he wakes up, even if it has side effects."

"So your hippocratic oath is okay with that?" Tony questions.

Bruce nods. "Definitely. It's the only way."

"Well, Clint and Sharon staked out their hideout pretty well," Sam remarks. "We need to strike by night, otherwise the sun will burn their blood before we get them to the tower. I suggest just after sunset, so they're only just waking up. Surround them, all exits, break in at the same time from all sides."

"No weapons," Sharon adds. "Nothing silver. Maybe batons."

"Did Bobbi leave hers?" Pepper asks.

Fury snorts. "She would've never left her batons. But we have some."

"Any blunt weapon will do," Natasha remarks. "Just beat them. Full force. Break their bones until they can't move."

"The vampire slayer has spoken," Tony comments. "Honestly, if I were your friend, I'd be really really scared."

"Are you kidding," Sam replies. "I'm already scared of her as it is."

* * *

She eats a lot and sleeps a lot and gradually feels better. Not fully on it but good enough for a fight. Sam's nutritional supplements seem to help as well. The others have been training the last few days, all in good shape. Seems like they're really doing this.

They crowd around the basement in the evening when everyone else is rushing home behind locked doors. She's on the South side, together with Sharon. Sam and Clint in the West, Pepper and Tony in the East, no exit on the Northern side. "Are you sure you can do this?" Sharon asks.

Natasha breathes deeply, clutching the batons. "Yeah. Absolutely."

"Is it true that you used to have a sword?" Sharon asks with amusement.

"Fury promised to get me a new one," Natasha replies with a smile. "I'm completely out of practice, though."

"I'd love to see that," Sharon remarks. "You know, at the dinner, your friend… he really seemed familiar. I still couldn't find him in the database, though. Are you sure he's American?"

"I mean, he never said-" Natasha pauses. "I don't know. Maybe the database doesn't go that far back. Or he was just never active in America."

"Yes," Sharon concedes. "Maybe."

The comm crackles. "Sun's down. Move in in 40."

"Copy that," Sharon replies. "Ready?"

"Won't get much readier," Natasha returns.

They stalk towards the Southern entrance to the basement, the tilted wooden hatch, keeping their breathing down. Steps around the building. "Five."

Natasha looks to Sharon who nods. Just a little moment and- slamming wood, Sharon kicks down the hatch, dropping down herself, Natasha following her- it's dark and quiet, mouldy smell. Flashlight on, darting across the cellar walls. Smells of old blood, somewhat rotten. Old broken furniture around. Fangs-

Sharon ducks down just right and the vampire flies over her, crashing into Natasha, hard stone floor, teeth trying to break through to her arm, she tries to kick and knock him off but he's got her pinned down, fangs forcing through the suit-

Sharon yanks him off, gets in a hit with the baton before she has to dodge, he throws her over and she kicks his legs out, Natasha grabs his head but he's up too quick, knocking her back, he's fast enough to block both hers and Sharon's blows, Sharon goes for the legs again and Natasha pummels him in the face, sending him stumbling, dark blood dripping from his mouth, she jumps at him and wraps her legs around his neck, momentum sending them both to the ground. His claws scratch across her biteguard, Sharon's baton hits him in the neck, he jumps at her again, she grabs his arm and slams her foot in, cracking, howling, twists him so she can get him in a chokehold, he tries to sink his teeth through her arm protection, scrambling for purchase with his claws, Sharon grits her teeth and twists hard, his neck cracks, not enough, lets go and yanks his head around, crushing his spine.

He drops down slowly, not fully paralysed, hisses at Sharon when she comes closer, she picks up his other arm and breaks it, too, then the legs, calmly and methodically while he screams in agony, then straightens. "You okay?"

"Yeah." Natasha groans, head dropping back. "Just a second. I'm exhausted."

"Stay with him while I look for the others?" Sharon suggests. "You could… incapacitate him even more."

Yeah, she knows a thing or two about that. Sits up. "Yeah. Go."

There's still fighting noises emanating from the door Sharon disappears through, flashlight down the hall. The vampire with the broken neck hisses at Natasha. She grins, pushing up. "So."

"Bitch," he hisses, breathless. "Slut. Whore."

"Quite the smooth talker." She crouches down next to him. "You know, I'd put you out of your misery, but we need you alive. So… your spine's not quite through, is it."

He bares his fangs again. "The Red Skull's coming for you. You know that."

"Looks like he's not coming quick enough," she remarks, leaning over and taking his head. "Uh, this is going to hurt, not gonna lie."

She twists and he screams before gritting his teeth, and then it's quiet. She grins. "Oh, now you feel nothing. Good."

"We found the body," his twisted head whispers.

She leans forward involuntarily. "What?"

The vampire grins, blood running out of his mouth. "You- killed him- and now they're coming for you. You're all going to die. Painfully."

Shit. "Who's coming?"

"Everyone," he whispers, craning his neck as good as he can. "Everyone."

* * *

Clint has a broken hand but otherwise, everyone is fine. Tony maybe knocked against a wall too hard, despite the helmet, slight nosebleed. They're dragging the vampires out now, strapping them to stretchers. Doesn't bring up good memories.

"Hey!"

She turns around and James is hiding in a dark entrance, looking agitated. She looks back. "Mind if I-"

Sharon waves her off, so she walks down the alley and ducks into the entrance. "Hey."

"What the fuck are you doing," he asks.

Right. "Hunting vampires," she replies. "Is what we do. Uh, over the black cloak, I kinda forgot to tell you about the ice block."

"The ice block?" He doesn't seem pleased. "What the fuck?"

"Someone fished a frozen guy out of the Norwegian sea," she explains. "And Bruce, our resident smart guy, is trying to revive him. Needs a lot of vampire blood for that, though. So we thought we'd raid a hunting party."

"That's not how vampire blood works."

She snorts. "Yeah? You know that?"

"I just can't believe you'd change plans for  _ that _ ," he complains. "I thought we agreed!"

"Look, they're not going to be surprised that we hunt vampires," Natasha counters. "Actually, bigger fish to fry. It seems that the Castle found Pierce's body and sent a messenger to Schmidt, so this place will reek of his goons soon enough."

James leans back against the wall, breathing out. "Shit."

"Yeah," she agrees. "But it seems they don't know about your involvement. So it shortens our timeline but doesn't change the plan."

"He can't draw them together that quickly," James remarks. "I talked to Pierce- before- and the black cloaks are all across the globe. He thought two in Prague would be enough. There's only three others in Europe and they may not be dispensable."

"Can't just hop on a plane?" she asks.

He snorts. "Sweetheart. The sun."

"Right." She rubs her nose. "So three. Karpov in Russia."

He pulls a face. "Yeah. Awful guy. So you heard about him."

"Schmidt has big plans for Russia," she says. "So Karpov's probably not available. Who are the others?"

"Schmidt's in Northern France," he replies. "Strucker is still doing Germany and the Viper's down in the Balkans."

"The Viper?" she repeats. "Seriously?"

"Yeah, fun lady," he remarks. "She knocked my fangs out last time. Schmidt has a thing for her."

"Wow." She shakes her head. "Thinks he's a god and is actually just a  _ guy _ . And the most powerful vampire alive, of course."

"She's worse than him," he adds. "He's at least trying to achieve something, she just enjoys terrorizing and killing people."

"Great people you're working with," she remarks. "And they're both available?"

"Probably," he states. "I'm not sure about Karpov. Maybe you're right. Schmidt doesn't usually tell me what he's planning."

"Oh man." She rubs her forehead. "So they could be here any day."

"Stay in," he advises. "Really. I'll check in with the Castle, whether they know more. I'll come over in a few days and let you know."

"Okay." She breathes out. "Thanks. We‘ll try to work out a battle plan."

"Are you better?" he asks. "You still look kind of pale."

She smiles. "Yeah, I'm better. Don't worry." She gets on her toes. "Glad to see you, actually."

He's careful in kissing her. "Mhm. Can I tell you something awkward that I can't tell anyone else about?"

"Isn't that everything?" she questions. "Sure."

"Last time we met, when you killed Pierce," he starts. "I was warm for a whole day after. Actually, when I brought you back to the Tower, I… I still had the boner, so after bringing you to bed, I went to the bathroom and jacked off and- it just worked. Yeah. And even after I left the Tower, it took some hours until I went back to room temperature."

"Did that turn you on so bad?" she teases.

He snorts. "No. I don't know why. Felt really fucking good, though. I like having sex with you, absolutely, but it's kind of nice to have it in my own hands, too. Literally."

"Yeah, seems fair," she acknowledges, pecking his lips. "I mean, if I can and you couldn't… so I'm glad."

He grins. "Mhm. Tell me more."

"You'd like that," she accuses, pressing against him. "So… will you always be scared when kissing me now?"

"I just feel-" He sighs. "There's something, between us, that's neither me nor you, that's pulling us into a direction and- it's kind of scary. And I don't want you to get hurt, so I'd rather be careful."

"Yeah, maybe that's fair," she allows, kissing him again. "I should get back, probably. Before the Viper strikes."

He snorts. "Yeah. I wish that was funny."


	16. Chapter 16

"Hey Bruce," Natasha starts. "I know you have a lot to do, but can you talk to me for a second?"

"Are you hurt?" Bruce asks, spinning around. "Should I take a look at something?"

"No, no, it's not about me," she replies. "Just… the vampire blood you're about to use. You know about the experiments in Russia, much of them by these KGB guys but… some by my friend Alexei. The thing is, not all of it became public. It was… so much worse."

Bruce frowns. "What do you mean by worse?"

"He injected dead people," she states, shuddering. "And they got up again but their minds were gone. They were… like golems. Look, I trust you and I trust your judgement, but… if it does not go as planned, if this frozen guy doesn't really come back… you need to end it. And never tell anyone about it."

"I never knew-" Bruce sighs, taking off his glasses, pinching his nose. "I see. That is beyond the pale. Yes. I will be careful. Thanks for telling me."

"I'm not going to stop you," Natasha says. "If I trust anyone to do this, it's you. But it's a moral minefield."

* * *

"So your friend fucked up," Clint remarks.

"Oh, come on!" Natasha protests. "We don't know that. Maybe it was just really bad luck."

"Doesn't matter either way," Sam stresses. "We can't take out the Castle if an army of black cloaks could attack us from behind at any moment. Actually, we can't go out at all."

"Is the plan ready?" Fury questions.

Sam sighs. "Kinda. I thought about doing it at a soccer stadium, AC Sparta Praha or something, install UV in the flood lights, lure them there, burn them. It's on the Castle side of the river, though."

"We wouldn't want the Castle to come to their help," Sharon remarks. "That's definitely too many."

"Stark has the stuff for the UV lamps, right?" Fury interjects. "So go to the stadium and check it out. The day is still safe. They're not invulnerable."

"Oh yeah," Pepper agrees. "As Natasha has proven."

"That's a whole different ballgame," Natasha remarks. "Even with James… the Castle is still looming and- I just don't know if we can do this."

"We'll die trying, if necessary," Fury states. "But we'll give them a hell of a fight."

"I guess that's what being a hunter is all about," Clint adds slowly.

"Definitely." Sharon shakes her head. "We'll just have to do our best. Uh, I'll go down to the lab, ask Tony about the UV lights. And see how the thawing is going."

"Do that, Carter," Fury agrees. "So they could be here any moment."

"Schmidt doesn't use telephones and that sort of thing," Natasha explains. "So they must have sent a messenger. Schmidt's in Northern France, but I don't know how quick the messenger would be. As soon as it reaches him, he'd have to get hold of his black cloaks first. There's one in Germany, Russia and the Balkans each, the rest is not on the continent. If he sends messengers again, it could take a while."

"I don't see why he would be in a rush," Pepper remarks. "He thinks he'll get you anyway. And he's proven to be patient."

"What about your friend?" Sam asks. "Is his cover intact?"

"The guy from the hunting party didn't mention him at all," Natasha replies. "I would assume so."

"Then it's four black cloaks, in Schmidt's eyes," Clint points out. "And he's closest, he's well acquainted with your smell, he can track you down easily. He'd be the very first one Schmidt would send after you."

"Which brings us back to the mind control," Sam adds.

Natasha sighs. "So we need to defend against him as well," Fury states. "Potentially."

"It doesn't work when it's not Schmidt personally talking to him, giving the order," Natasha counters impatiently. "If at all. It sounds kinda fickle, from what I gathered. And he's just… he's changed a lot since arriving here. I'm not sure it would still work, at all, even if Schmidt personally dragged his red ass over here."

"Changed how?" Clint asks critically.

Natasha breathes out. "I don't know. Bruce says his virus count is a lot lower. He just feels more- more  _ human _ -"

Someone screams downstairs.

* * *

Sharon is still screaming when they arrive in the lab, hands clutched over her mouth. Bruce looks seriously disturbed. Pepper is the first to catch her. "Everything okay?"

Sharon stops screaming, taking a breath, swallowing, still staring at- The ice block guy is lying there, though less ice block now. Still frozen. Blonde, tall, broad. That's about it. Nothing to scream about.

"I don't know," Bruce remarks nervously. "She came down and looked at him and started screaming. Did I- did I do something?"

"No," Fury states simply. Sharon is whispering into her hands, incomprehensible. "Get her to sit down."

Sharon is immovable, though, including her stare. Pepper pries her hands down a little. "Come on, sweetheart. Sit down, tell us what's going on. Are you okay?"

"No," Sharon whispers. "No. Nonono."

"Where's Stark?" Clint asks impatiently.

Bruce points at a door. "Taking blood from the vampires. Uh, should I, like, freeze him again or…?"

"You continue," Fury orders. "And get Carter out, she's making everyone nervous."

"We'll go help Stark," Clint adds. "Tasha and me."

She's glad not to have to deal with that, emotionally. Clint pushes the door open and it instantly smells of blood, vampire blood. It's cold. Stark shrieks when the plastic curtain is pulled back. "You stay out! Was enough work to get this place sterile."

"Yeah, sure," Clint remarks sarcastically. "I'm sure your fancy sneakers are squeaky clean."

Tony snorts, fiddling with a needle that's attached to an empty infusion bag sort of thing. "Fine, come in. What do you need?"

They step in, though not far. The three vampires are strapped to tables, limbs twisted. One already looks fairly crumpled and dry. "Are you taking all of their blood?" Natasha asks.

"As much as I can," Tony replies, stabbing the needle into the arm of one who hisses. Oh, that's hers. "Not as effective as vampires sucking it out but eh, what you're gonna do."

"Let me take the other one," Clint suggests, stepping up and taking another needle. "So everything alright?"

"Yeah, I'm at five litres," Tony replies, looking at the bags of dark blood. "Gave them an electric shock so they wouldn't try to make trouble. And strapped their extremities down, of course. What about out there? Thought I heard a scream."

Clint snorts, looking for a vein. "Yeah, Sharon had some sort of shock. I don't know. But everyone standing around was certainly not helping, so we'll just ask later, I guess."

Natasha takes one of the jagged knives on the table. There are dents in the curves, like in a bread knife. It looks very martial, sharp and pointy. Every bit of this knife could kill someone. "You really don't look good," Tony remarks, pointing at the crumpled vampire. "Barely better than this guy. Maybe you should take some vampire blood again."

"Maybe she should  _ not  _ inject any more untested substances," Clint suggests sourly.

"Come on, raids like that are exhausting," Natasha points out. "I just need to lie down some more. Just calm down a bit before."

"Can't lie down forever," Tony replies. "Until you're dead. Then you totally can."

" _ Great _ idea," Clint remarks. "Very healthy."

Tony snorts. "You know what you two could do to help? Get rid of the bodies, once we're done with them."

* * *

"No, I'm really sure," Sharon argues frantically. "I've known the face, the photos, since- since I was born, basically, just- I'd recognize him anywhere."

"It's alright," Pepper assures her. "Just take a deep breath."

Fury's gone, of course. Clint crosses his arms. "Could someone explain to us what is going on?"

"The frozen guy," Sam explains. "Sharon thinks she recognizes him, that it's someone her grandma knew."

Sharon snorts loudly. "Someone she knew? The fucking love of her life, he would have been my grandfather if he hadn't died in the war, well, maybe he didn't- if he hadn't gone  _ missing _ ."

"The war?" Natasha asks. "The Great Patriotic War? World War Two?"

"Who knows how long he has been frozen!" Sharon interrupts hysterically. "Bruce said it, we don't know- we just don't know. But I know. God, I have the photo somewhere, I know it, I just have to find-"

"The photo can wait," Sam argues. "I mean, this guy is definitely not going anywhere."

"If that guy's really been frozen for fifty years," Clint remarks. "He doesn't know- You'd need to tell him everything, you know, Nazis out, Commies in, Commies kinda out, and now  _ vampires _ . That's gonna be quite the shock."

"If we can even get him back," Natasha remarks quietly.

"It's gonna be alright," Pepper says quickly. "What did you say his name was again?"

"His-" Sharon sighs, wiping at her eyes. "Steve. His name is Steve."

* * *

"Come on," Clint remarks, twisting the silver knife in the crumpled vampire's heart. "Don't tell me you believed her."

"You think she's lying?" Natasha questions, playing with the jagged knife. "Really?"

"Not  _ lying _ , of course," Clint retracts. "But she's so worked up about it and- I think she's deluding herself. Getting back the grandfather she wanted. You know, after her father was killed by vampires."

"He's still somewhat in the ice," Natasha relents. "Maybe he'll look different when he's completely thawed, and she'll recognize it's not actually him after all."

Clint snorts, sitting up, narrowing his eyes in the sunshine. "Yeah, probably. I mean, World War Two. Come the fuck on."

"James is from World War Two," Natasha remarks, beginning to saw one vampire's head off. "Probably."

"He never told you that, though," Clint argues. "That's just what you think."

Natasha rolls her eyes, some dark blood splattering her hands. "Oh, you're in that mood again."

"You gotta admit, though," Clint continues, "it's suspicious. The one thing you asked him to do, really easy, and he fucks it up? How even? It was so close to sunrise when he brought the body out, there should've been absolutely nothing left for the Castle to find."

"Maybe he put it partly in the shadow or something," Natasha says, with frustration. "Maybe the UV light was just not enough. Maybe black cloaks take longer to dissolve. You just don't know."

"What has he ever done for us?" Clint asks. "And don't say the information on the Castle, we don't even know that's true."

"Warned us about the black cloak," Natasha replies. "Let me test the taser on him. Hell, he saved Pepper and me from a hunting party once. Told me about a nest, two nests. Gave all those samples to Bruce and did all the tests. And who knows how many vampires would have tried to attack me if he hadn't been around. I know that's not enough for you to prove his loyalty, but it's not nothing."

"I'll believe it when I actually see him fight the other black cloaks," Clint states. "Then I'll happily admit I'm wrong, right before I die. Because that's the plan, right?"

"Wow, you're gloomy." Natasha drops the knife. "Come on, let me take a look at your hand."

Clint rolls his eyes, clutching the wrist. "It's fine."

"Oh, fuck off," Natasha returns. "What was that about being honest and not deluding yourself?"

"I guess they're dead enough," Clint remarks, straightening, looking down at the severed heads and pierced, crumpled, twisted bodies. "Wanna head back?"

"I'll make Bruce look at your hand," she threatens, getting to her feet- suddenly, all the light draining out, vision going dark, head spinning, tumbling-

Clint catches her before she collapses. She blinks until the darkness recedes, strange tingling going through her body. "You okay?"

"Fine," she mutters, hanging in his arms, waiting until her vision clears and sharpens. "Fine. Just-"

"Just almost fainted," Clint remarks with worry.

The blood starts flowing the right way again, at least she can see where she is again. She frowns. "Thanks, but you can let go now."

"You really should go see Bruce," Clint advises, making sure she's right on her feet. "Once he's done with ice block Steve."

"And once I've had a good sleep, because I'm tired as fuck," she adds, picking up the jagged knife carefully. "We should go together."

Clint snorts. "Yeah, great idea. Because you're insane and I don't trust you."

* * *

Bruce is still busy when they get back, tired, overworked, but still glued to screens and beeping devices and the ice block, so she goes directly to bed, directly falling asleep. Waking up feels like waking up from the dead.

She's so tired, not quite ready to get up. Her wooden shutters keep the room in complete darkness. She's lying in the damp, stifling, motionless room, could be any time, any place. Somehow, she feels like crying and doesn't even know why. Lost. Just lost.

Nobody acutely needs her, so she could just stay here, sleep another eight hours or however long that was before. The blanket feels very heavy. Nothing to do until Bruce is done with the ice block, until Sam has a plan to deal with the impending vampire invasion, until James shows up again. Nobody needs her. Not clear what she could possibly do to help.

She still fights her way up, against the heavy blanket, feet touching the cold stone floor, and when she shifts upward, standing, the rug is pulled out from under her, it gets even darker, she somehow stops feeling anything but the uncomfortable tingle, getting lightheaded, and-

Her body totally gives in, dropping like dead weight, she barely catches herself before her head cracks on the stone, ripping and bruising her forearm and elbow on the cold hardness, and- it takes a few moments until she's even aware she's lying on the ground, barely having avoided a concussion, shivering from the cold and simultaneously burning with the tingle, her arm really hurts. Wow. She really should go see Bruce.

She dresses carefully, always steadying herself somewhere or sitting down when she can. It's a little better, though, just when she gets up too quickly. Seems like exhaustion.

Clint is down in the lab when she shuffles down the stairs, Bruce wrapping yet another bandage around his wrist. "Simple fracture. Should heal rather quickly. If it doesn't, we can still try the vampire blood treatment."

"No thanks," Clint replies drily. "I feel better without claws."

Bruce, as always, doesn't insist, just finishing the bandage and cutting the rest off. "Well, we'll see. Oh, Nat, you can come in, we're pretty much done here."

He looks tired but not exhausted, probably slept a little in between. "Thanks," she replies. "Uh, how's the patient? The other one?"

"Gave him the first dose of vampire blood a few hours ago," Bruce explains, putting his tool set away. "Six, I think. We'll wait and see, give it time to work. So, you're still feeling exhausted, is that it?"

"Yeah," she agrees. Clint moves so she can sit down. "Just- just take a blood sample and see whether there's any residue of the vampire blood, I guess. Or maybe it's, you know, hormones."

"I guess I'll go then," Clint remarks, rubbing his wrist through the bandage. "Now that you made it here."

"Yeah, that's gonna take a while," Bruce suggests. "Uh, don't forget the painkillers. Yeah, so, Nat, I'll guess I'll prick your finger."

She holds it out dutifully so he can gather the single drop of blood. The door falls shut. "You know, I- I almost fainted just now. When getting up. Bruised my arm."

"Sounds like low blood sugar," Bruce remarks, stepping to a little drawer cabinet and pulling out a granola bar. "When did you last eat?"

She snorts, taking the wrapped bar. "Right. Forgot. You always keep them there?"

"Yes." Bruce puts the blood into the little white machine that measures blood sugar. "I also forget to eat, you know. Spend hours standing in the lab, focused on my work, forgetting about… well, everything else. Yeah, it happens."

"Sounds exhausting," she remarks, mouth full, chewing.

"It is," Bruce admits, looking at the little screen. "Oh, yeah. Your blood sugar is very low. When did you say you last ate?"

"After the raid," Natasha recalls. "A sandwich. With eggs and all."

Bruce frowns. "Doesn't sound too bad. But this… I think I'm going to do a complete blood count. Maybe you're deficient in something. No history of diabetes in your family, right?"

"None," she replies. "Okay, take the blood sample, and then I'm grabbing something to eat for real."

* * *

The results are not good, judging from Bruce's face when she comes back with a few sausages. "Feel better?"

"A little," she replies, sitting down again. "So, did you find anything?"

"Look, you're low in- everything?" Bruce's eyes narrow like the numbers are wrong. "All the nutrients and the red and white blood cells- just the color, I mean, look at that, it's  _ way  _ too bright."

"Oh." She bites off because she's still hungry. "So you- do you know why? Is it the residue from the vampire blood?"

"Couldn't find any of that," Bruce replies. "I think. So, any other symptoms you noticed? Really, anything, I have no idea."

"Well, I-" She tilts her head. "I mean, the fatigue is pretty strong. I kinda thought it might be the hormones, you know, because you said- Increased appetite, but you know that. And the fainting, though that's only recently. Uh, can I tell you something without you freaking out?"

Bruce smiles strenuously. "That bad?"

She pulls off her shirt, showing him the shoulder with the wound. "James kinda bit me. Without poison. Well, that's what he said. Uh, but I didn't get fangs or claws or anything, so I thought it was not a problem."

Bruce darts forward hastily. "Oh my. When was- Why?"

She blushes. "That's- complicated. When I killed the black cloak."

"But you still haven't-" Bruce studies the basically healed wound. "No, no, it would have shown up in the blood sample. No. No vampire cells. I mean- maybe there's some other effect but- gosh, I don't know."

"My body was kinda weird the last few weeks," she admits to get away from  _ why _ he bit her. "Told you I was actually feeling good for a while, you know, better than usual, but- maybe I'm going into too much detail here but it felt like I was actually growing both more muscle and more hair, body hair- though it went away again, I guess, a little. Uh, yeah, and both James and the black cloak said I smelled kinda strange. More recently. And- maybe that's because I've been eating so much but I kinda bloat. Not gaining weight anywhere else, my thighs might actually have gotten slimmer, just my stomach. Yeah, is that too much information?"

"Did you weigh yourself?" Bruce questions.

"Never do."

"Well, I don't know, sounds like you might have had a bit too much testosterone earlier, maybe the dosage was wrong," Bruce suggests. "Maybe that's the smell, too, vampires do smell hormones. But I don't know about the weight gain or bloating or whatever it is. I guess I'll run an ultrasound, if that's okay, if you have the time-"

"Sure," she replies. "Nothing else to do. I'll just lie down then."

Bruce gets the machine while she wiggles her pants down below her hips. Yeah, if she's honest, it doesn't feel like gained fat. God, having Bruce deal with her intestinal issues is embarrassing. Maybe she has worms. Would explain the increased appetite. Really bad case of the worms.

It's cold down in the lab, which makes the smooth gel applied to her belly even worse. "I'll check your hormones later," Bruce promises, setting the machine up. "Maybe that's the appetite, too. Hormones are weird. Sorry, not a specialist."

"Yeah, usually, it's more bruises and broken bones," she remarks, shivering. "With the occasional ice block. No, really, thanks for looking at all that, for at least trying."

Bruce blushes. "No issue. Uh, if you're cold, you can put on the shirt again, just keep the belly uncovered."

She nods, twisting back into the sleeves. Oh, she's tired. Drained. She leans back and closes her eyes. The transducer is cold and tickles, she startles. Tries not to twitch too much as the smooth device glides over her stomach. God, she could fall asleep again. And eat.

"Stomach looks normal," Bruce reports. "At first glance. I'll go lower."

This is kinda weird, and not just because she's trying not to laugh. But he's doing his best, with the best intentions. Like with the ice block. The transducer glides over her lower abs and then even lower. It's just a machine, just a medical device. Glides up again, presses in, stays there remarkably long. Maybe something wrong. "Why did you stop?" she asks weakly.

"I-" Bruce hesitates. "Please tell me I'm not going crazy."

She opens her eyes, alarmed. "What?"

"You don't- you don't have a uterus, right?" Bruce stares at the screen. "Well… but what is  _ that _ ?"

She sits up too rapidly, knocking the transducer off so the screen goes dark, nothing to see. "Let me see. Can't be my uterus. Why would it be- where the fuck would I get a uterus?!"

"Lay down, I'll show you," Bruce asks, twisting the screen. She complies reluctantly, letting him find the right spot again. "Here. That's the right ovary, so far so good, and the fallopian tube leads to- if I didn't know better, if it weren't you, I'd say that’s the uterus."

She starts chewing on her lip. "Check from the other side."

"Right." He swipes across, cold and smooth, smearing the gel across, but stopping in the middle. She looks at him questioningly but he just stares at the screen, blinking, frowning. God, this is exasperating and she doesn't have the nerve for it. "Bruce?"

He blinks rapidly, then drops the transducer. "I'll go wake Tony."

"You what?" she repeats. "Why? He's not even a doctor, what could he possibly-"

"Stay here," Bruce interrupts, already scrambling up. "I'll be right back. We'll be right back."

And then he's gone. Natasha groans, head dropping back, eyes falling closed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guess the Steve thing was pretty obvious... the plot twist at the end probably too, but I couldn't stop myself :D


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tony is a real asshole in this chapter. Also, Steve makes his first (albeit brief) appearance). And yeah, you all guessed it.

She snaps out of it when she hears steps, forcing her eyes open wearily. Tony, in his pyjamas. Bruce just behind. "What the fuck."

They ignore her. "I'll just take a look," Tony says to Bruce, stifling a yawn. "But really, I don't know anything about that shit, you're the doctor around here."

Bruce nods. "Yes, yes, sure. Just- I think I'm crazy. Maybe I should go to bed."

Tony snorts, taking the transducer and putting it onto her lower abs without even asking. "You could probably use an espresso, but bad timing. Anyway, what do we have here…"

She knocks his hand with the transducer away. "Get the fuck away and tell me what the fuck is going on."

"Nat," Bruce says quietly, clinging onto a chair. "Just let him look. Please. We'll tell you when we're sure."

She'd rather get dressed and storm out. Being exposed like this was okay when it was just Bruce, but adding Tony to the mix is too much. "I'm not your fucking lab rat."

"Yeah, but you're clearly not well," Tony returns. "Just give me half a minute, okay? I didn't like being dragged out of bed either, believe me."

Half a minute. She grits her teeth. "Fine. Be quick."

Tony rolls his eyes, stifling another yawn, then drags the transducer over her belly again, between her hip bones. She's not squeamish around these things but that feels quite invasive. Private. She sucks it up for now. Tony squints at the screen, tilting his head. "You mean there, doc?"

And talking about her again, as if she's not right there. Bruce jumps up and points at something. "Yes. There. That's just- I mean, it really looks like- but that's crazy."

"Not that crazy," Tony returns calmly. "In fact, I told her so."

Oh great. Blood boiling. "Told me what?"

"Looks like your friend knocked you up," Tony states matter-of-factly. "I mean, I'm really not an OB-GYN, but that thing's pretty grown already."

Her English is clearly failing her. "That thing?"

"Yeah, the baby, foetus, whichever stage it is at," Tony replies, readjusting the transducer and pointing at the screen. "There. I mean, it's got fingers and toes and all."

Bruce drops heavily into a chair, very pale. "A baby?!" Natasha repeats.

"I mean, I can't tell whether it has claws or fangs," Tony continues undisturbed. "But let's be real. Unless there's something else you want to tell us about."

She doesn't want to tell them absolutely anything. "That's not possible."

"Told you it was," Tony repeats. "But you don't like listening, do you."

"I had my fucking uterus removed!" she shouts. "I can't be  _ pregnant _ ."

"Gotta ask Bruce about that," Tony remarks, putting the transducer away. "Gotta say, that's weird."

"I must have old ultrasounds somewhere," Bruce mutters, jumping up and ripping open drawers. "I'm pretty sure-"

"Doesn't matter, though," Tony concludes, plugging the machine out. "I mean, pregnant is pregnant. Whatever the deal with your uterus is."

"You're fucking kidding me, aren't you," she hisses. "Bruce. Say something."

"I wish he were," Bruce says quietly, going through folders. "I really wish he were."

"Let her take a pregnancy test," Tony advises, already packing up. "Maybe she'll believe it then."

"We don't  _ have  _ a pregnancy test," Bruce returns. "I mean, why would we-"

"That's  _ crazy _ ," Natasha interrupts.

"Fucking a vampire is crazy," Tony counters. "Getting pregnant is pretty basic."

"Oh, fuck off," she hisses back, yanking her pants up, not caring about the sticky gel everywhere. "What the fuck do  _ you  _ know-"

As she stumbles up, she immediately blacks out.

* * *

"Her blood pressure is really low."

"Yeah, kinda noticed, with the collapsing and all."

"I just don't know what to do."

"More scans, I guess. Have you ever done an abortion?"

"....No. Obviously not."

"Yeah, that's gonna be fun. In the meantime, let's do an endovaginal scan, I guess, see what we're dealing with."

"Tony, she's  _ unconscious _ . We can't just put stuff up her-"

"Looks like she's actually not that picky about that."

Silence. "That was really fucking low."

"True, though."

"You're an asshole. As if you never made a mistake. Remember Rhodey?"

Silence. " _ That  _ was really fucking low."

"Worse than calling her a-?"

"Yeah, yeah, I get it. I'll get Fury, have to tell him sooner or later."

The slight pain of the needle sinking into her arm is enough to send her out.

* * *

She feels a little better when she opens her eyes, though still extremely tired. The lab is very bright. She sighs, closing her eyes again.

There is something in her arm, her left arm, uncomfortable. Still feels run over. "Bruce?" she mutters.

"Right here," his voice replies. "I gave you an IV so you'll get more stable. Tony is getting Fury."

"Yeah, heard that," she whispers, trying to push up a little.

"Sorry," Bruce replies. "No, no, you don't need to get up, no need."

"I wanna sit up," Natasha insists, peeling her eyes open.

Bruce sighs, pushing a pillow under her back and cranking the head part of the bed up. "How are you feeling?"

"Not great," she mutters, tilting her head one side to the other, then letting it drop back. "Bruce?"

"Yeah, your blood pressure is still quite low," he says. "Yes?"

"Do you think I'm a slut?"

Bruce cringes hard, blushing. "That's really your business, Natasha."

She snorts softly. "Right."

"Tony finds it easier to be an asshole than to say he cares," Bruce continues, scooting back with his chair. "Doesn't mean he doesn't."

She closes her eyes, trying to hear the rest of the Tower. "Are they coming?"

"Tony and Fury?" Bruce asks. "I don't know. Probably."

She cringes at the prospect. "I can't talk to them right now."

Bruce sighs. "Okay. I'll- I'll meet them outside. Tell them you're still unconscious."

"Thanks," she mutters, wiggling slightly, needle piercing her arm. "Uh, could you crank the bed down again?"

"Sure." The IV is pushed around. "There. I'll be back soon, don't worry."

"Wasn't," she whispers while the door falls closed.

* * *

"Shut up, Stark. So, is he going insane or not?"

"I wish I could tell you differently, but no. Doesn't look so."

"Don't blame me.  _ I  _ was the one who warned her, months ago-"

"I don't care. What do we do now? There's no precedent?"

"None."

"Yeah, sure there is."

"No  _ confirmed  _ case."

"Oh, yeah, you and your boring scientific standard of proof."

"Stark, for the last time, shut up. In your unconfirmed cases, did the mother ever make it?"

Silence. "And if you abort?"

"No idea. I mean, we have to. Only option. If we even can. Who knows if we can get that thing out."

She wants to scream at them, shout, but she is oh so weak. "Well, good thing we have a lot of vampire blood, right?"

"What do you need?"

"She's really low on blood and nutrients, so blood transfusions, I'll look up her blood type, a lot of nutritional intravenous solution, lots of food. That should stabilize her, for now. What happens when that thing grows, who knows. Oh, and someone should go to the pharmacy and get a traditional pregnancy test, just to be sure."

"I'll ask Pepper."

"Of course you'd drag my girlfriend into this."

"You wanna do it yourself? She's the most local."

"Go fuck yourself. I'll tell her."

"Good. How long does she have?"

"I swear to God, I know absolutely nothing. This thing's pretty grown, which makes sense if it constantly sucks the blood out of her. I need to consult my books…."

* * *

"...good thing we know a gynaecologist, right?"

"Oh,  _ hell _ , no. I'm not calling  _ her _ ."

"Get over yourself, Clint. It's Natasha's life."

"Well, ask Fury, then."

"Wait, you still have your ex' number?"

"She didn't leave the  _ planet _ ! But really, ask Fury, no need for  _ me  _ to call her."

"The pharmacy opens in half an hour, I'll take Sharon and we'll go. The one on the Národní is still there, as far as I know."

"Tell them it's not for you, cupcake."

"Who cares, Tony."

" _ I  _ care."

"But you already know it's not for me."

"Are you awake?" Bruce' voice asks, much closer and clearer.

She stirs automatically, needle pricking inside her arm. Ouch. "Mhm. Barely."

"You should eat, and drink," Bruce advises. "The oatmeal is still warm. But if you'd rather have something else…"

"Could you help me sit up?" she interrupts, opening her eyes. "And dim the lights, please."

The overhead light is switched off. "Sure. You weren't out long, if you want to know."

"Mhm." She forces her back up, even though her vision is swimming. The IV pricks. Bruce adjusts the bed. "Thanks."

"No issue," Bruce replies, sitting down again. "I can let the others in, if you want- though I guess you don't."

Sometimes, Bruce understands her very well. She takes a spoonful of oatmeal, blowing on it even though it is not that hot. "Mhm. Not now."

"Sure." He looks at her awkwardly. "I thought about inserting a gastric feeding tube but who knows how your organs will shift. I mean, you can still eat, so if you just eat a lot and are on the IV, you should be fine, calorie-wise."

"Mhm." She can't really talk, somehow, too drowsy. Eats another spoonful. "You want something."

Bruce sighs. "Look, in the end- forget about Tony, but I think I need to do an endovaginal scan. I know that's uncomfortable."

She swallows, too tired to get angry but still defiant. "For what?"

"It gives a way better image than through all the muscles and other organs," Bruce explains. "I just wanna know what's going on. I know you're not comfortable with me doing it, and I'm sorry about that."

"Of course I'm comfortable with it," she returns. "It's just a medical thing, and you're my doctor-"

Bruce smiles weakly. "You don't need to lie to make me feel better, Natasha."

"I'm not lying."

"You are," Bruce replies. "But yes, it's a medical thing. An uncomfortable, invasive medical thing that I'd rather avoid, but I can't change it."

She drinks some water. "You said it's pretty grown."

Bruce flips a book open. "Yes. Didn't take a picture, so I'd need to do another scan, but from what I remember, it looks like at about 16 weeks. According to this book."

"I can't possibly be 16 weeks pregnant," Natasha protests.

"Well, how long could you possibly be pregnant?" Bruce asks.

Silence. Maybe it would be easier to do this with someone else. Though she can't imagine a person that would judge her less than Bruce. He sighs. "Okay. End of your last period."

"Two or three weeks ago," she replies. "Maybe a little longer. I don't know, it wasn't really late, and you said with the hormones-"

"It's okay," Bruce interrupts, scribbling. "The thing is just- it's growing way faster than your body can keep up, can adjust. And that's really fucking scary."

She swallows air. "Sounds so."

"Pregnancy is a serious health risk at the best of times," Bruce states. "I don't wanna be gloomy, but if we can't stop this soon enough, it's definitely going to kill you-"

_ Clonk _ .

Bruce starts and goes very, very pale. "What is that?" Natasha asks.

_ Crash _ . "Oh shit," Bruce breathes. "I totally forgot about the ice block."

* * *

It is quickly agreed the nicest one should go in first, read: Sam, especially now that Pepper's out in town. Just try and calm him down. Yeah, nothing to envy there.

The ice block man has been locked next door in the lab until he woke up, which he now clearly did, and now- well. She pretends to be asleep so Sam doesn't ask her how she's doing as he slips by. The door is unlocked, opened, quickly closes. Hopefully that guy isn't the violent type. She listens with baited breath.

"Oh, finally,  _ someone _ ," a very dry and weak voice says. "Where am I? What is this? What is going on?"

"Prague, Sir," Sam replies. "Captain. Czech Republic."

"Czechoslovakia," the voice corrects. "So behind enemy lines. Where are you from, soldier? What is your unit?"

"Washington, DC," Sam replies. "I'm from the United States Air Force. Formerly."

"Ah, so you're from the Army."

"No, Captain. The Air Force is a separate branch. I should-"

" _ What _ ? Who ordered that?"

"-inform you that the year is 1999. Sir."

Silence. "1999."

"Yes. Captain."

_ Thump. _

The door opens, she quickly closes her eyes. "He passed out," Sam informs Bruce. "Can you help me get him into a bed?"

"We only have the one," Bruce replies. "Uh, maybe we can clean up one of the stretchers we used for the vampires-"

"Yeah, whatever," Sam quickly replies. "Just- how is she?"

Bruce sighs. "Not great. Oh man, I could really wake up now, thanks."

"Looks more like you should get some sleep," Sam advises. "Come on, let's get the stretcher and then we'll see."

* * *

"...there. She even wrote  _ not for me  _ on it, see, in Czech."

"Great, cupcake."

"Your stupid idea. So what did we miss?"

"The ice block woke up but passed out again. So hit and miss."

"Wait, Steve? Steve woke up?"

"Well, if Steve was a Captain in the US Army during World War II-"

"Exactly! 107th, Infantry."

"Oh. Yeah, then it might be him. At least the uniform."

"What about Natasha's friend? We should let him know, contact him somehow."

"Wait, contact him? We're still letting that guy in?"

"Tony, he didn't rape her."

"Yeah, sure, just made her have his evil demonic spawn that's sucking the life out of her. Cool thing."

"Is she awake?"

"Dunno." The door opens. "Doesn't look like it. The evil demonic spawn isn't doing her good, strangely enough. I really don't understand why Bruce hasn't cut that thing out of her already."

"Because she's unconscious? At least ask her first, you're way too comfortable making her decisions for her, for my taste."

"Well, her decision was to be talked into having the fanged little parasite, despite my warnings, so-"

"That's not what her decision was."

"Oh, I forget, you  _ like  _ the guy."

"It's not about him. Just give  _ her  _ the benefit of the doubt."

The door closes again. "Can I see Steve?"

"Uh, we decided it'd be best to take it slow and not upset him, and seeing his almost granddaughter is probably not helpful."

"Just wait, if that's okay, Sharon? He's not leaving, so you'll get your chance."

"Sam's with him. He can probably give him the softest landing."

"Yes, okay. I mean, I'd rather- but it's alright, you're right. I'll just have to wait. Even if it's hard. Um, my mom sent me more pictures, would you like to look at them?"

"Oh, absolutely! Can I leave that with you, sweetheart? Remember, it's not for me."

"Very funny. I'll tell you when the ice block wakes up again."

The door opens and this time, there are steps inside. Tony puts the items down somewhere. She tries to breathe evenly. "You're totally awake, aren't you."

"Fuck you," she presses out through gritted teeth, not opening her eyes.

Tony snorts. "Right. So, Pep got you the-"

"Seriously," she hisses. "Go fuck yourself."

"What did I  _ do _ ?"

"You know exactly," she returns coldly. "Don't think I don't hear you talking about me like I'm  _ insane _ -"

"Didn't say that."

"Oh, fuck off, will you."

"You're gonna die," Tony throws back. "Bruce is too nice to tell you but this thing will suck you dry from inside and then break through your stomach to crawl out. You're not really considering dying just so that bastard can have his fangy little half-demon."

"It's not about him!" She almost screams. "It's absolutely completely not about him! But I will  _ not _ let you take away, let you kill  _ my baby _ ."

Tony raises an eyebrow. "Wow."

She snorts. "Oh, go fuck yourself, really."

"I didn't know you wanted a baby," Tony remarks.

"You think that's  _ fun _ ?" she asks. "Alone, everyone around me dies, suffering through every day, getting hurt until I die- for  _ what _ ? There was never an off ramp, a way out, something to go to, something  _ good  _ to- I don't even know what I'm protecting anymore."

"You couldn't just adopt a cat or something?" Tony asks.

"You're a real asshole."

"I'm serious, if you really wanted a kid and it's not about the pale bastard, we'll find a way to adopt or, hell, if your uterus is really back, go for it, please, anything that's not a vampire, but there's no reason to  _ die  _ for it."

"Fuck off."

Tony sighs, dropping into a chair. "Okay, tell me. Come on, I'm listening."

"I don't wanna tell you. Anything."

"You really want a-"

"Fuck off."

"Sure it's not about-"

"Fuck off."

"So you were serious about-"

"Fuck off."

Tony snorts, getting up. "Nice talk. I'll tell Barton you're awake. Don't worry, he's even more pissed than I am."

* * *

Clint doesn't say anything, just sits there and stares at her, which she can ignore very well in her current exhausted state. She does nothing but sleep and eat and she's still exhausted. No idea what time it is, what day, everything.

Bruce actually went to sleep, as far as she knows. Which he really should. Who knows how long he's been up, between the raid, the ice block, her unexpected pregnancy. Sam's with the ice block man. That's another issue. Everything is an issue.

The door opens quietly and there are quiet steps inside. "Is she awake?" Sharon's hushed voice asks.

"Ask her," Clint returns coolly.

"Natasha?" Sharon whispers.

She pries her eyes open. "Mhm?"

"How are you feeling?" Sharon asks. "I want to show you something. It can wait, though, if you'd rather sleep. Uh, it might be upsetting."

Natasha frowns, trying to sit up. "What is it?"

"I asked my mom to scan me more photos of Steve," Sharon explains, settling at her bedside. "So she sent them to me. Here. The tall blonde one is Steve."

Natasha blinks to clear her vision, to make out something in the printed black and white picture. "And?"

"You know, I told you your friend seemed familiar somehow," Sharon remarks. "I think I found him."

That's too much. "You found him?" Clint questions. "In your old family photographs?"

"See, here." Sharon hands him another photograph. "On the right. I know it's not a very good shot- oh, this one is better. Here."

Her damn vision won't clear up. Clint frowns. "That-"

"Yeah, I know!" Sharon sounds so  _ happy _ . "It's stunning."

"I was gonna say that could be anyone," Clint remarks drily.

"Grandma Peggy always called him Bucky," Sharon continues. "Steve's best friend and right-hand man. I looked him up just now and his full name was Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes. You know, James."

"There's a ton of guys named  _ James _ ," Clint returns.

Sharon snorts softly. "Well, his unit lost him in the Austrian Alps, not far from where Schmidt's base supposedly was. His body was never recovered. That was in 1943, before the First Uprising."

She looks at the photo and suddenly sees it. "That's him."

Clint frowns. "Tasha-"

"Trust me," she interrupts. "I know his face."

"I knew he seemed familiar," Sharon repeats. "I just couldn't place- but of course he'd be that old, just his eyes, and we know many, if not most of the black cloaks were turned before the Uprising-"

"Does that change anything?" Clint asks.

"Well, strictly speaking, no," Sharon replies. "But it's good to know, isn't it?"

Clint snorts. "Yeah, great to know. I'm going to bed."

Natasha puts the photo down, waiting for the door to close. "This James- Bucky- was he, like, a good guy?"

Sharon smiles. "Yeah, sure. Absolutely. I can tell you what Grandma Peggy told me. Uh, should I get you something to eat? Bruce said you need to eat."

Natasha sighs, head dropping back. "Yeah. I just ate and I'm already starving."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The US Air Force was made into a separate branch of the military only in 1947, before that, it was part of the Army. And yes, I've been wanting to use that in fic ever since I learnt it.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You've been waiting for it - James shows up.

"Just give it a few more seconds," Pepper suggests.

Natasha groans, head dropping back against the cold tiles. It's crowded in here, with the IV drip and two people. Little bathroom. Sitting upright is pretty exhausting, not to mention getting there.

"I think there's a line- yes, it's getting stronger," Pepper announces, flipping the cardboard packaging. "And line means- yeah, line means pregnant. So everything as expected."

Natasha doesn't know if she expected it not to show up because it's a vampire baby, or because she still kind of believes this is all a big misunderstanding, or- "Let's get you back to bed, then," Pepper says, putting the pregnancy test back in the box. "Bruce said if you sleep so much, you need to eat almost every waking hour."

She feels like a stuffing goose shoving more and more food down her own throat. "Could you-"

"Sure," Pepper replies, stepping in to help her up, avoiding the IV drip. "Uh, I'll help you with your pants, too, don't bother."

Natasha closes her eyes, just waiting. Her legs are weak. Everyone is always running around her, bringing her stuff, helping her, steadying her. Pampering. If she weren't so weak… "Here," Pepper says, putting an arm around her waist. "Got it?"

She nods quietly, prying her eyes open to the crass light in the bathroom, taking careful steps. Pepper helps along, opening the door for her, dragging the IV with them. They make it back to the lab where Sam and Sharon are waiting. Sam jumps up, taking over from Pepper and leading her the rest of the way to the bed. She can hardly keep herself upright, collapsing onto the sheets.

"Thanks." Pepper sighs, pushing a few bangs out of her face. "Came back positive. As expected."

"Bruce is still asleep, told him I would change the drip," Sam replies. "Nat, do you hear me?"

It's very mushy. "Mhm," she croaks out.

"Made you a protein shake," Sam says. "And brought some candy bars. If you want anything else, just say it."

"Okay," she mutters. "You don't- need to be here. All of you. All the time."

"I just wanna see Steve-" Sharon hesitates. "Maybe I should just go in now. While he's still asleep."

"Uh, he's being fed through a tube," Sam remarks. "Not the prettiest sight."

Sharon snorts. "I don't care. Uh, I'll just go in quietly. Just a minute. I'll get you immediately if he wakes up."

"Careful," Sam advises. "Uh, I'll take a Snickers if you don't mind."

Natasha chuckles, the sound scratching in her throat. "Bastard. Gimme one."

The wrapping rustles. A door closes somewhere. "There," Sam's voice says. "So… we haven't really had the chance to talk."

"About what," Natasha replies, feeling around his hand until her fingers close around the chocolate. "No idea what you're referring to."

Sam, surprisingly, doesn't call her a smartass. "Tony said something to the effect that you don't want the abortion."

She's too exhausted to fight. Hell, she can't even keep her eyes open. "...don't understand, do you."

Sam sighs. "It's not about understanding. I just don't know what my- what the right thing- if you wanted to jump off a roof, I should clearly stop you. Even if you really wanted to jump."

"Jump off a roof," she repeats weakly.

"I don't know if you noticed but you're not doing well," Sam remarks. "And you're very much at the beginning, so it's gonna get a lot worse. So continuing is kind of suici-"

A door opens and closes very quickly. "Shit, shit, shit," Sharon breathes. "I woke him up. Shit."

She can very well imagine the look of exasperation on Sam's face. "I'll take care of it. Can you look after her? Wake up Bruce if her vitals take a dive."

"Yes, sure," Sharon replies quickly. "Sorry. Really."

The door opens and closes. Sharon takes a seat somewhere. There's some sort of struggle next door. "Here," Sam's voice says. "Are you okay?"

"Yes," the strange voice croaks. "Who- who was that dame?"

"Sharon," Sam replies hesitantly. "Listen, the- the war is over, so could we just- I'm Sam."

Silence. "The war is over?"

"Yeah, you missed a lot."

"You said something- I don't remember but it was very upsetting. Uh, Steve. I'm Steve."

"Oh yeah. The year."

"But who won? The war?"

"Oh, the Allied forces. That actually ended quite well. Apart from the Soviet Union."

"Well, that's- what happened with the Soviet Union?"

"Gained control of most of Eastern Europe, including a part of Germany. Installed Communist satellite governments and all. But there was a peaceful revolution a few years ago, so the Communists are not in power anymore. The Nazis are pretty much gone, by the way. Other than- well."

Groaning. "Can I have something to drink before that? Sam?"

"Oh, sure. You're really going to need it."

* * *

"...gave her Glucagon but her blood sugar is still low…"

"... like bleeding out…"

"Kofola?"

"...might drop into a coma if we…"

"...cut it out…"

"Her pulse is super fast… weak…"

"Try honey, my mom used to…"

"No time…"

"...shock…"

"15 minutes?"

"Do you have any idea how hard it is…"

"Do it."

"Cut it out."

"All our reserves…"

"... extremely low blood pressure."

"...normal…"

"Just…"

"...the infusion…"

"Then we'll…"

"...can't be sure…"

"...gotta do something… right now…"

"...try…"

"...she's gonna die…"

"...sugar… sweet…"

"...blood… vampire blood…"

"...don't know…"

"...something…"

"...stop…"

"...die…"

* * *

_ Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm _

"I think she just twitched."

"So what? You never twitch?"

"Doesn't mean she's awake."

"How much is that now?"

"Less than a bag. Half a liter maybe."

"And we only have two? Great."

"I mean, we have a  _ lot  _ of vampire blood."

"That's crazy. You have no idea what that would do to her body."

"Kinda do, don't we."

"Ah, yes, I will forever remember when you warned her she'd regrow  _ her uterus _ ."

"Look, healing is a very fluid concept."

"Nice try."

"What about the ice block?"

"Went back to sleep. Was just trying to explain to him what Vietnam even is."

"Well, what  _ is  _ Vietnam?"

"You never went to that Vietnamese restaurant over in Žižkov? It's really great, you should."

"Maybe Barton should join your lessons."

"Is that still open?"

"Sure. Nothing better than soup after a night on patrol."

"I hate all of you."

"Maybe it's our only option. The vampire blood."

"Yes, let's poison her some more."

"Steve seems to be doing fine!"

"Have you checked his teeth?"

"I think she twitched again."

"I saw nothing."

"Didn't see anything either."

"Oh, now she  _ definitely  _ twitched."

"Maybe she can hear us?"

"I hope she can't hear all of you idiots."

"I'm just glad her blood pressure is going up."

"Yeah, really surprising she has more blood now that we pumped it directly into her veins."

"Shut up."

"Excuse me, I have to explain to Steve who you even  _ are _ ."

A door slams somewhere above.

"Oh great. Is that…"

"You expect anyone else?"

" _ Really  _ been looking forward to that."

She hardly hears the steps but the swooshing cloak. "What the fuck are you doing?"

James. That's James' voice. She tries to pry her eyes open just a little. "That's something you should answer. Or rather, what you  _ were _ doing."

She feels a gush of cold air and the touch of cold firm stone that slowly warms up. "Is she hurt? Was it the raid-"

"Pregnant. She's pregnant."

"She's  _ what _ ?"

"Oh, now you're  _ surprised _ ?"

"Hey," she croaks out.

More of the cold touch on her hand. "Oh, Nat. Are you- how do you- how are you?"

"Mhm." Her mouth is too numb to talk but she tries to smile. "Mhm."

"Her blood pressure is very low," Bruce explains. "This thing is basically sucking the blood and the sugar and the nutrients out of her and using that to grow rapidly. I'm afraid she won't be able to handle it much longer."

"Then why haven't you gotten rid of it-"

"Mhm!"

"We haven't decided yet. And we're still waiting for a gynaecologist because I definitely can't do that."

"How is it even possible that-"

"Oh, fuck off. As if you don't know."

"Of course I don't know! How was I supposed to- I'm a fucking vampire, if you haven't noticed."

"Well,  _ certain _ things seem to be working just fine. Looks like you noticed that."

"Don't get gross, Tony. Well, she had her uterus removed, years ago, so she shouldn't have been able to get pregnant. But it’s back now. Our theory is that the injection of vampire blood somehow reconstructed or regrew it."

"I mean, she's been injecting it for months, on and off. But why that would affect her- it doesn't fix scars either, that's not how vampire blood works."

"Wait, for months?"

"She didn't wanna tell you. To get stronger, to heal faster."

"Wow, you're both the worst."

"But it worked for her? I don't think she had a lot of adverse side effects- apart from the uterus thing. We could really use that now."

"Mhm."

"I think she wants to say something."

"Mhm!"

"Give her something to drink, that should help."

"Is that  _ Coca Cola _ ?"

"Kofola. Don't ask, it was a longer discussion."

"Has a lot of sugar, though."

"Still disgusting."

"Sweetheart, if you don't like it here, just go home."

"Mhm. Mhm."

"It's for the blood sugar."

Someone helps her lift her back, sit up. Steadies her with a pillow. She opens her mouth tentatively and starts drinking. Her lips and mouth are still numb so she drools a little but she's also quite thirsty. She has no idea what time or day it is. The sugary drink, carbonated, caffeinated, it seems to go to her brain as well, waking her up. She leans back, eyes fluttering open. Very bright. "More?" Sam's vague shape asks, very close.

She shakes her head slowly, blinking. "So when is that other doctor coming?" James' voice asks.

"She's in Italy," Fury says. "Could take a few days."

She gathers her breath and her spit. "No."

They turn to her, still vague silhouettes. "I don't want the-"

Her voice is breaking and she's not sure they even hear her. "I should change the blood bag," Bruce says.

"She's still very pale," Pepper says. "I don't like it."

"James," she whispers. He's sitting at her bedside, holding her hand. He's warmer than her.

"Pulse?" Fury asks.

"Still rather quick," Bruce replies. "I'll put in the second one. And then we'll just have to see."

She tries to squeeze James' hand, weakly. "Yeah, she can't eat all the time," Sam says. "I'm not even sure her stomach can work quick enough."

"This is too much," Sharon whispers. "For her body."

"Well, maybe should have thought about that beforehand," Tony needles.

James hisses at him, all fangs. "As if that was- what do you even want, just help her already."

"Trying," Bruce mutters, somewhere on her left.

"Just take it out," James pleads. "Just, for the love of God, please kill that thing before it kills her. Please."

"James," she whispers, holding onto his hands.

"Yeah, tell her that," Clint advises. "Cause she won't hear it."

"James," she whispers. "Please. No."

"Everyone's crazy here," Tony states.

"Okay, done," Bruce says. "I really don't know about the vampire blood."

"She's barely conscious," Sam remarks. "I'm not sure she can- tell what she wants. If she really understands the situation."

"The situation he got her into," Tony points out. "Let's not forget that."

"Come on, we all know her," Clint says. "She'd never- if she were in her right mind, she'd get rid of that monster instantly."

She digs her nails into James' hand. "Guys!"

"Get out," James demands coldly. "All of you."

Of course, Tony can't keep himself from a final dig. "Isn't that just how we got here-"

"Out," James hisses. "I won't ask again."

"We'll wait outside," Fury says.

Natasha relaxes slightly, slumping back against the pillow. She really can't see well but she feels James' warm hands around hers. "Thank- Thanks."

The door falls shut. "Oh Natalia," James mutters, stroking her cheek. "I'm so sorry."

"Drink," she says.

He takes the bottle and helps her drink. More sugar, more hydration. Maybe it's the blood transfusion but she's beginning to feel a little better, a little clearer. Boy, must she be dirty. "Do I- smell?"

"Honestly," James replies, putting the bottle away. "You smell like you are dying. Without the bleeding."

"But I want it," she whispers.

He sighs. "You maybe want a baby but… this is a monster, a parasite. That's not what you want. I can't give you that."

"You don't know that," she says.

"I can see what it's doing to you," he replies. "Please don't do that to yourself. I care about you, I love you, you're everything to me, please don't let my mistakes kill you."

"Your mistakes?" she repeats. "Don't listen to them. They'll- they'll do everything to blame you."

"I blame me," he replies. "Because I should. I dragged you through way too much even before this."

"I kissed you," she says, trying to get her argument straight. "I slept with you. I wanted to. And now I want- I believe this happened for a reason."

He snorts. "Divine punishment?"

"Before all of this, I wanted-" She takes a deep breath. "A family. I gave that up for… And now I have a baby, and I'm not going to give it up."

"It's not a baby if it sucks the life out of you," James replies. "And I can't give you anything better, I can't give you a family, I'm sorry. I wish you could… maybe, if you had run. But we're here now and… don't let this be the end."

"I might never get another chance," she remarks. "Never. And we have so much vampire blood, Bruce knows so much about- I want to try. Don't throw this away."

"I don't want you to have my-" He sighs, rubbing his thumb over her hand. "I want you to have the baby you wanted before, a human baby. A real baby. Who knows what kind of- what if it's a vampire, it's already sucking your blood. Who knows how it'll turn out. If you ever get to see that at all. I never brought you anything good."

"Don't stop me," she pleads. "Please."

"What if the vampire blood doesn't work like you think it will?" James asks. "Please don't risk that for this thing."

"The doctor won't be here immediately anyway," she whispers, exhausted again. "Try the vampire blood. Make them try. Please."

James sighs. "Anything for you, Natalia. Always."

She tries to smile. "Tell them. And I love you, too."

"Oh God." He jerks back slightly. "Please tell me you're not doing this to have my- offspring, it is not worth having. Who knows how fucked up my genes are-"

"Oh God, you idiot," she breathes. "You're not that bad. But no, not having it for you. Seriously, you thought I'm not in love with you, I was just banging you because I got bored or what-"

"Don't exhaust yourself," James interrupts.

She rolls her eyes, closing them. "I'm glad you're here."

"Wish it were under different circumstances," he says. "I'll let the others back in, if that's okay."

"Mhm." Boy, talking is exhausting her. "Yeah."

He leans forward and pecks her dry lips, his are cold, and then he's suddenly at the door. "Give her the blood transfusion. The vampire blood."

Bruce peeks in. "I can't promise it won't make it worse. Maybe she'll go into cardiac failure-"

"She's dying if you don't do it," James states.

"Oh, yeah, he's the expert," Tony's voice remarks.

"Please do it," she croaks out.

Bruce moves closer to her because her voice is so quiet. "Hm?"

"Do it," she whispers again. "I know- know- what it does."

"If she's really been taking it for months, she knows better than anyone," Sharon argues. "I'd say give her a small dosis."

"But maybe a small dosis is not enough," Pepper remarks. "How much did you give her for the black cloak?"

"The ratio between human blood and vampire blood was much different then."

"Oh, come on, weren't we going to pump the ice block full of it?"

"Yeah, but he was  _ frozen _ ."

"We gave her about 200ml. But not at once."

"Just give her something already."

"But how much is  _ something _ ?"

"Try a hundred."

"So she was basically juicing-"

"I don't think it will negatively impact her. The foetus…"

"That you wanted to abort against her will minutes ago."

"Yeah, honestly, if it kills that thing or slows its growth, that's not the worst thing."

"And if it supercharges it?"

"Do it," Fury's voice interrupts. "Or do you want to stand here while she's wasting away?"

"So a hundred milliliter-"

"Here's a syringe."

"Inject it straight away."

"It might conflict with the blood transfusion-"

"Brucey, now is a really bad time to play through all the doom scenarios."

There's some more indistinct talking and then the needle sinks into her arm. She's too numb to really feel it.

"Seems okay."

"Nobody said she was going to spontaneously combust."

"If it goes really wrong, we might have to amputate the arm-"

"Bruce, calm down, you're driving everyone else crazy."

"It's going to be okay."

She's beginning to feel the emptiness in her left arm that she recognizes. It's never spectacular. "Alright," Fury states. "Putting that aside-"

"Putting that  _ aside _ ?" James repeats.

"Why, you wanna talk about it?" Fury asks drily.

"...No."

"Didn't think so. What is the status on the black cloaks that were going to come here every day now?"

"Wow, I really forgot about that."

"I went to the Castle and- pretended to be really surprised hearing what happened to Pierce and- they haven't heard from Schmidt yet. So I told him I could find her and hunt her down and that she probably left town. Was going to ask her to stay in… guess that's not an issue. Anyway, Rumlow sent another messenger to Schmidt, maybe that will buy us more time."

"And he believed you," Fury questions.

"Lying comes really natural to you, doesn't it," Clint remarks sourly.

"Seriously," James hisses. "You wanna do that  _ now _ ?"

"Boys, calm down."

"So neither of you should be seen around town?"

"Rumlow doesn't really care. But no one knows what Schmidt is going to do."

"Well, Nat's definitely staying in."

"So you could go back? Cover intact?"

"Why would I go  _ back _ ?"

"Find out what Schmidt's planning. When the messenger comes back."

"I can't do this forever."

"But how long? That's the point..."

"...already dead, so there's no hurry…"

"...might be really mad…"

"...certainly understand.."

"...looking for her…"

"...really said…"

"...kill her?"

Something starts beeping.

"Oh-oh."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little cliffhanger...  
> Kofola was the replacement for Coca Cola in Communist Czechoslovakia, though it tastes differently (more like soda). Opinions on it diverge, I happen to rather like it.  
> Also, Czechoslovakia took in a lot of Vietnamese guest workers during Communism and they're one of the biggest national minorities in the Czech Republic now. Hence there are a lot of small shops and restaurants run by Vietnamese people, especially in Prague.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... this chapter is quite a bummer.

"Oh, thank God."

"This stuff is really scary."

"How long was that? Five minutes?"

"Yeah, six or so."

"Definitely works very quickly."

"It's just the pulse. The other problems are-"

"Mhm."

"Oh, she's even awake."

She opens her eyes, somehow much easier than before. Rough silhouettes standing and sitting around. "I think it works," Tony's voice says. "Though we shouldn't stop the blood transfusions."

"With what blood?" Bruce asks. "This is the last one."

"Blood is really hard to get," Fury remarks. "And dangerous."

"What if we donated?" Sharon suggests. "What's her blood type?"

"She's an A+. She could only get donations from A or O, positive or negative."

"Well, I'm O-," Sharon replies. "So you could take some of me and give it to her."

"You're an universal donor?" Sam questions. "Wow, you should be donating blood all the time."

"Wait, I'll get my emergency sheet," Bruce remarks.

Pepper chuckles. "Does anyone else think it's weird that we're discussing blood donations when there's a vampire in the room?"

"I don't even know what that blood type is," James says.

"It's about antigens, who can donate to whom," Sam explains. "Maybe you could smell or taste the difference."

"Oh, don't turn this into a fucking wine tasting," Tony throws in.

"Here." Bruce flips through a folder. "Pepper is B+, so she's out. Clint is AB, also out. Right, Sharon is O-, Tony is O+, I'm A+. Fury is A-. Sam is B-, he's out."

"What about plasma," Tony suggests. "Isn't that the inverse?"

Bruce starts rubbing his temples. "Right. AB plasma can be donated to any blood type. But there's no way to get a B donor and an A recipient together."

"That's Pepper and me," Sam remarks. "We're really out. But if everyone else gives a little-"

"We should give her as little as possible," Bruce warns. "From as little people as possible. Preferably type A. I can cross-test the blood but there's always a risk- wait, she's pregnant. We can only give her O- until we know the foetus' blood type."

"Oh, great, I've always wanted to do a paternity test," Tony decides.

"Come on, he's a vampire, he doesn't have a blood type," Clint throws in.

"Well, if he can have kids, maybe that's… a lot more conventional than we think," Sam suggests.

"He's blood type O," Sharon whispers. "Or he was."

" _ What _ ," James interrupts.

"They put it on the dog tags, during WWII," Sharon explains slowly. "In case someone needed an emergency blood transfusion. The SS even had tattoos."

"How the fuck would you-"

"I wanted to show you this." She pulls out the photos. "They're not very good but- this guy. You should remember."

James jerks back as if they're scorching hot. "I don't remember anything."

"But you do, don't you," Sharon insists.

"Do you really all need to be here all the time," Natasha interjects. "It's exhausting."

"You're right," Sam agrees, getting up. "We'll let you work it out. How are you feeling, though?"

"Like shit," Natasha replies. "No surprise there."

"I'd like to take blood right now, Sharon," Bruce suggests. "If that's okay. Then I have time to test it."

"You two can stay," Natasha decides. "And James. Everyone else, out."

Tony grins. "Oh, you sound a lot better."

* * *

"I really don't remember," James repeats.

Sharon snorts, staring up at the ceiling. "Nat, your friend is super annoying."

"I just can't-" James groans. "There's nothing there. Really."

"But that's you in the picture," Natasha argues, chewing. "Definitely."

"Maybe," James admits. "But I'm not so sure. And not so sure if it matters."

"Of course it matters," Natasha replies, reaching in the bag again. "And- I'll let Sharon break that to you."

Sharon snorts. "Oh,  _ thank you _ ."

"What the fuck- how many secrets do you have," James complains.

"It's not a secret," Natasha justifies. "Just very recent."

"Well, the blonde tall guy in the picture, Steve, he's-" Sharon sighs. "He crashed with an aircraft, in 1944. You wouldn't know that. And- do you know about the ice block?"

"Yeah, I told him," Natasha confirms, putting another chocolate bean in her mouth.

"Yeah, but I didn't really care," James remarks. "The guy you're trying to revive with vampire blood, wasn't it."

"He wasn't  _ dead _ ," Bruce objects.

"Yeah, and now he's really up," Sharon adds. "Except right now he's sleeping, recovering. Anyway, he's the blond guy in the picture. Steve."

"Wait, how isn't he dead?" James questions. "Now?"

"Long story," Bruce replies. "But basically, the ice stops the aging process."

"Well, good for him," James replies. "I don't see- wait, if I'm really the guy in the picture, then- then he'd know me? Shit."

"He definitely would," Sharon confirms. "That's why we're telling you."

"You can't tell him-" James looks around frantically. "Did you tell him about- vampires? Please don't tell him."

"He does know about the vampires, though I'm not sure he understands the scope of it," Sharon explains. "But nothing about you."

"You can't tell him- imagine what a shock that would be," James argues. "Finding out your best friend has turned into a- a monster, do you know how much bad- don't do that to him."

"You're not a monster," Natasha repeats. "But you seem really worked up about this."

"Come on, he's going to find out," Sharon returns. "I mean, what are we supposed to tell him who got her pregnant?"

"Speaking of, I'd like to do another ultrasound," Bruce throws in. "Monitor the growth. Sharon will be done soon."

"Will I?" Sharon asks. "Good."

"Yeah, that's enough for now," Bruce replies. "Don't get up too fast, eat and drink a lot, don't exercise, you know the drill."

"Yeah, okay," Natasha agrees. "Can't hurt."

"I'm also going to take a little blood from you to cross-match," Bruce adds. "See whether it agglutinates. Just to be safe."

"Where is that guy even," James complains. "Please tell me he's not-"

"Next door," Sharon replies. "Yup. Get over it."

"Get over it?" James repeats, horrified. "Do you really wanna do that to him, imagine him finding out- as if he hasn't already enough on his plate, and the- I really don't remember and if I really was that and now I'm- this- don't do that. Don't tell him."

"Look, I feel you," Natasha replies, chewing. "But we can't control- if he wakes up, he can just walk over at any point."

Bruce bites his lip. "Actually- I locked him in."

Sharon laughs. "Really? Didn't expect that from you, Bruce."

"This is  _ very  _ expensive lab equipment," Bruce justifies. "I don't want him running around, unsupervised-"

"So you could have a head start," Natasha states. "Before running into him."

"I'm not sure I'm keen on breaking that to Steve," Sharon ponders. "So maybe… I don't know. You're not getting out of this for long. And you don't need to, Steve is very understanding-"

"With all due respect," James interrupts. "You don't know that guy, except from the rosy tales of your granny, and this is not- not some minor- if I ever was that guy, I am not anymore. I'm so much worse."

"So do we do the ultrasound right now?" Natasha asks.

"No reason to wait," Bruce replies, removing the needle from Sharon's arm. "Don't get up just yet. Maybe you could- we have plenty of food here, don't we."

"Yeah, gimme that bacon sandwich," Sharon demands. "Are those M&Ms?"

"Something like it," Natasha replies, handing the bag over to James so he can give it to Sharon. "Guess I'll stop munching for a minute, for the scan."

"Yeah, just a second, let me get my… things in order," Bruce says, looking around in confusion. "God, this- everything- I can't believe I'm doing this."

"Same," Natasha remarks, licking her fingers. "Same."

"Yeah, but you- whatever." Bruce adjusts his glasses. "Yes. Ultrasound. Could you move out of the way?"

James gets up reluctantly, taking exactly one step back. "What is that even?"

"Something to look inside," Natasha explains, pushing her shirt up and her pants down below her hip bones. "That's it. Doesn't do anything else. Except it's cold and tickles."

"I guess you'll have to live with that," Bruce suggests, spreading the gel over her stomach. "Let me see…"

"Mind if I stay?" Sharon asks between bites.

"Sure, nothing secret about it," Natasha replies. "James, I think you need to step back."

James reluctantly takes another step back. "I don't like this."

"Don't you want to see?" Sharon suggests. "How it's growing?"

"No," James replies. "Not really."

"Won't take long," Natasha promises as Bruce places the transducer on her abdomen. "Right?"

"Right." Bruce shakes his head. "Really, I don't really know what to look for. I just want to take a picture to document the growth, for when Bobbi arrives."

"Sounds like a good idea," Natasha replies. "I should stop talking, shouldn't I?"

"Would be helpful if you moved less," Bruce mutters. "Oh, there. Now let's see..."

Sharon sits up to peer at the screen. "Oh my. That's really quite grown already."

"Sharon, could you hold the transducer?" Bruce asks, trying to flip a book open with one hand. "I have to…"

"Sure." Sharon gets up and slips past James, smiling at Natasha. Bruce pushes his sleeves up and leans over the book. "Yeah, okay. Okay. Move it a little, without taking it off."

Sharon lets the transducer glide over the gel. "Wow, I think it's really gotten bigger already," Bruce whispers. "Looks more like the picture at 20 weeks than at 16 weeks."

Natasha gulps, which James notices. "Honestly… are you sure that's a baby?"

Sharon snorts loudly. "Oh wow. You're going to be a horrible father."

"Definitely a fetus," Bruce replies, staring at the screen. "Move it a little, again. Mhm. I can't really see anything that looks… not human."

Natasha bites her lip. "Is it a boy or a girl?" Sharon asks.

Bruce snorts softly. "Don't nail me down on this, but… I think it's not a boy. I think we'd see that."

"Wait, it just-" Sharon also stares at the screen. "I think it's sucking on its thumb."

"Let's just take the pictures and then we're done," Bruce suggests. "Then Natasha can go back to sleep."

* * *

She's not as exhausted as before but still very tired, and so she is out very quickly and sleeps for what feels like forever. A shutting door wakes her up. "Wow, you look like shit."

She pries her eyes open. James, at her bedside, turns. "Yeah, you," Clint adds. "You know, you always look dead but now you look like it was painful, too."

James bares his fangs. "What do you want?"

"Get some sleep," Clint demands. "You're not helping here. Yeah, yeah, I'll look after her."

James clearly doesn't like the idea, still the threatening fangs. "It's fine," Natasha mutters, eyes half-closed. "I'll just sleep anyway."

James' hand, now warm, comes to her cheek. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah, sure," she whispers. "Just come back later, rested."

He lets go reluctantly. "Okay. I won't be away long."

She's got the feeling he will. Who knows how long he hasn't slept. "You can have my bed."

It looks like he doesn't want to kiss her, in front of Clint, so he touches her cheek again. "Okay. Take care. Sleep well."

Clint rolls his eyes as James passes him, moving slowly for his standards. Natasha sighs, closing her eyes, rolling onto her back. A chair screeches over the concrete floor. The door closes. Natasha snorts. "Are you going to give me the silent treatment again?"

"You're really insane," Clint says. "You know that?"

"Yeah, so what?" Natasha returns. "What about it? Weren't you the one who said go for it?"

"I said  _ carefully _ ," Clint replies. "And don't fuck it up. But you clearly fucked it up, so…"

"This is fucking it up?" Natasha cuts in.

"Yep." The chair screeches again. "Or did you want this?"

"Oh, come the fuck on."

"He definitely didn't," Clint remarks. "Still doesn't. So you know what that means."

"I'm making him?" Natasha opens her eyes. "Is that what you're saying?"

"He's really not father material," Clint states. "You know that. You can't make him into something that he's not. He'll try but it won't change a thing."

"You know all about fathers, don't you," Natasha shoots back venomously.

"Fuck off," Clint returns calmly. "And you're not better. You're good at killing vampires, you're not a  _ mother _ ."

"And I can't be both?" Natasha questions.

"You're insane, you're vicious, you're a killer," Clint states. "That's good for a hunter but impossible for a mother. And I guess you think you need to be kind and caring and soft, for some reason, but you just aren't."

"I was, though," Natasha whispers. "I really was. Before."

"That's not you anymore," Clint replies. "That's just how it is, I'm sorry. And you always had it in you. Don't try to be something that you're not, just because you think that's what you need to be happy. You'll fail and then it'll be worse."

"You don't know who I am," Natasha returns. "What I am. What I can be."

"Kinda do," Clint contends. "And then there's the fact that you'll definitely die from this."

Natasha snorts. "Oh yeah. You totally know that as well."

"I really don't know who you're doing this for," Clint remarks. "Seems like you just have to prove something to yourself. And die doing it."

"Look, none of us know what will happen," Natasha reminds him. "Don't pretend you do. You don't know shit."

"Please." Clint folds his hands. "Just tell me I'm wrong."

"Of course you're wrong!" Natasha throws back. "This is not about  _ proving  _ anything."

Clint snorts, kneading his fingers. "Oh, Tasha, you can't lie to me."

"The fuck do you even want," she spits out. "You don't get it, so just leave me alone."

"If you wanna be with him, I get that," Clint states. "I don't like it but I get it. No reason to make little monster babies, though."

"You're just jealous, aren't you," she hisses. "You wanted to have kids with Bobbi and she didn't. And now you can't bear seeing me have one."

Clint grins coldly, leaning forward. Looks very ugly. "Whatever Bobbi and I were, before I fucked up… trust me, you and him are not that. And you will never come even close."

"Yeah, maybe that's good," Natasha remarks sourly. "Given how you turned out."

"You don't even know him," Clint remarks. "You met him, what, two months ago? Three? The couple of nights you snuck out? That's nothing."

"For the last fucking time, it's not about him," Natasha returns. "It's about what I want. If you even care about that."

"Not fair," Clint remarks, getting up from the turned chair. "Fine, I'll go. Just… this job, it changes you. Everyone. Hardens you. And that's okay. It's okay if you lost your nurturing side, if you ever had one. Just don't pretend it's still there."

* * *

"I know he's going to disappoint me," Natasha whispers. "I know that. I'm fully prepared for that. Everyone will disappoint me sooner or later. The trick is not to trust too much. But… but not my baby."

"Hm?" Tony makes, behind the metal mask, then turns on the welder again, drowning out any response she might have had.

Bruce is inspecting her and Sharon's combined blood sample for clotting or something like that. When the welding noise dies down painfully, he sighs. "Tony, could you shut up for a moment?"

"What?" Tony pushes up the metal mask. "You're asking me  _ in advance _ ?"

Bruce rolls his eyes, staring intently at the blood. "Just say yes."

"Fine." Tony pulls the mask all the way off. "Was gonna do some finetuning anyway. Don't mind me."

Bruce sighs again. "Yeah, so, Nat, about the scan you don't want to do… The endovaginal one."

"Did you seriously wait until James is gone to talk about that?" Natasha questions.

"Excuse me, he looked ready to murder someone the second you pushed up your shirt for the ultrasound," Bruce defends. "I don't think he'd like this."

"Can't we wait until Clint's ex is here?" Natasha asks. "That would be more comfortable for everyone involved."

"Could take a few more days," Bruce replies. "And this thing is growing so fast… I just want to make sure she has the best possible information ready when she arrives."

"Can I say something?" Tony suggests innocently.

"I know you don't like it," Bruce hurries to say. "And I've been thinking… I don't have to do it myself. I could ask Sharon or Pepper to assist."

Natasha bites her lip. "I don't know."

"I'd just have to look at the screen," Bruce adds. "Really."

"Could you…" She hesitates. "Could you ask Sam?"

"Seriously?" Tony interjects, switching to a bigger screwdriver.

"Yeah, sure," Bruce replies immediately. "But it's not about medical knowledge. Pepper or Sharon could do it just as well. Also, Sam's only trained in emergency medicine, nothing that would help here."

"I'd prefer if he did it," Natasha insists. "If he agrees, of course. If you could ask."

"If you… okay." Bruce shakes his head, pushing the vial away. "I'll ask. Right now, or…?"

"Yeah, right now, we should have plenty of time," Natasha replies. "And Tony, you better fuck off or I'll tell Pepper."

Tony grins, stuffing the screwdriver between his teeth. "Mhm. No fankf. Gah. Fuft a fecond."

"I hope he's awake," Bruce remarks, closing the door behind him.

Tony yanks the screwdriver out again and drills something in. "Mhm. There. So, seriously, Sam?"

"Come the fuck on," Natasha remarks. "You know I'm not that comfortable… it's not about having a vagina."

"He's going to say no," Tony states, lifting up the metal parts. "With your creepy bat boyfriend around. I mean, if he's smart."

"That's purely medical," Natasha returns. "It's just awkward, it doesn't mean anything."

Tony grins, putting the metal parts down and getting up. "Oh, sure. I wouldn't bet on it."

* * *

Sam doesn't say no and now she's in a weird hospital gown, feet planted, and Bruce is pointedly only looking at the screen. "Tell me if it hurts," Sam remarks.

Oh, she must have pulled a face again. She shakes her head, willing the expression away. "Could you…" Bruce starts.

"Deeper?" Sam asks.

Bruce blushes, nodding. The gloved fingers sink in a little deeper, uncomfortable, she's not that wide. It's not only weird, it kinda hurts, stretching and poking. She blinks, staring at the ceiling, clenching fists. "Is that…?" Sam asks.

Bruce nods, pushing some buttons. "Yeah."

Natasha turns her head, glad for the distraction from the fact that Sam has the transducer and his fingers up her vagina. "What?"

"The heartbeat," Bruce replies. "It shows."

Natasha bites her lip. "And it moves, stretches," Sam adds, looking at the screen. "Do you feel that?"

She shakes her head. "Are we done soon?"

"Sorry," Sam remarks. "Bruce, are we-"

"Little to the left," Bruce interrupts. "I'd like to take a closer look at that."

* * *

She wakes up when something touches her hand, warm but firm, like a cobblestone in the sun. Opens her eyes hazily. It's dark down here, but it's James, and they're alone otherwise. "Mhm."

"Hey," James whispers. "How are you?"

He looks better, at least. Natasha sighs. "Okay. Tired. Hungry."

"I'll get you something in a minute," James promises, rubbing her hand. "Just… I thought about it and… can I talk to you?"

She lets her head drop to the side, staring at the wall. "Yes."

"Please don't have the baby," James says. "I know it's not my- it's your decision but- please don't."

She doesn't say anything, heaving chest the only sign she's not dead. "Even if it's your decision, it's still my responsibility," he continues. "I know you don't want to hear that it's my fault but- you wouldn't be in this without me. And I want to be there for you, help you, not leave you alone with problems I created- but I can't. You know what I am. I don't like it but I can't change it."

A tear runs down her cheek and he picks it up, staring at the drop on his finger. "I'll disappoint you, sweetheart. I'm not… human enough to do this. I don't want to abandon you but even if I stay, it's as good as that. I can't give you that, do that, what you need. I'd rather be not a father at all than a bad father."

Another tear breaks free, no stopping it. "I don't want you to cry because of me," he whispers. "Don't give me a responsibility I can't live up to. Just… if Schmidt finds me, he'll kill me. I still hope that you can get away somehow but… I don't think I'll make it out alive. You'll be okay on your own without me but… I can't bear saddling you with a baby I'll never be able to take care of."

She wants to tell him to shut up but the lump in her throat is too big and scratchy. James smiles, gently wiping away the tears on her cheek. "You don't have to say anything. I'll… I'll get you something to eat now."

When he comes back with a PBJ sandwich, she pretends to be fast asleep.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always write Bobbi as a gynecologist and I really don't know why. No Steve, but some drama and a lot of talking. An entire chapter of talking.

"I don't like this," Bruce mutters. "Your blood pressure dropped again. Blood sugar probably as well."

Natasha groans, mouth full. "Come on! I'm eating all the goddamn time!"

"Looks like that's not enough," Bruce replies, unwrapping the thing from her arm. "I'll give you the blood transfusion and… more vampire blood again, I guess. God, I wish Bobbi were here already."

"Is it so bad?" Natasha asks.

Bruce gets the clipboard. "We tracked your calorie intake and if you're at more than double the normal, without burning any because you're just lying around, and you're still low on nutrients… that's very bad."

"Speaking of," Natasha remarks. "I really need to pee."

"Only now?" Bruce frowns. "When was the last time- oh, forget it."

Natasha snorts. "Yeah, yeah, I know. Could you unplug me for a second or do I have to drag that around the whole fucking time?"

"Oh, definitely not," Bruce returns. "The former. Do you know how many bacteria that could introduce-"

Natasha groans.

* * *

"Just let Bobbi take care of it," Pepper encourages. "She'll be here soon and then it'll all be fine."

"Last time you gave her vampire blood, her heart stopped," Clint remarks sourly.

"She was doing way worse last time, though," Sam points out quietly, not looking her way. "Before."

"I don't want it to get back to that," Bruce mutters, sinking the needle into her arm. "So I'd rather do it now."

"Oxygen is fine?" Fury asks.

"You know what, I didn't even worry about that," Bruce says. "Should be fine. Or do you feel like you're not getting enough air?"

Natasha shakes her head. "Feels okay. The air quality in here is not the best, though, is it?"

Tony snorts. "Yeah, this room was never meant for this many people."

"You mean, because you all stand around all the time?" Natasha remarks.

"You really appreciate us, don't you," Clint returns.

"No, of course I do," she replies. "Just, you know, it's not really helping…?"

The door upstairs slams shut. Pepper jumps up. "Oh, that must be Bobbi. I'll go get her."

Sharon giggles, slipping off a table. "Wait for me! I really wanna meet her."

"Wow, Clint," Tony remarks. "You look  _ thrilled _ ."

"Fuck off," Clint counters. "Guess I should just go. Not like I'm needed here anyway."

Bruce breathes out deeply. "Oh, man, finally. Uh, Nat, if she says I fucked up, I'm sorry."

"Aw, come on, you definitely didn't fuck up," Natasha replies. "I'm totally alright. You did everything you could."

"So, the vampire blood," Tony remarks curiously. "How's that feel? Your arm? Burn or anything?"

Natasha raises her left arm, studying it. "Not really. It feels a little… empty? It's not spectacular, really."

"That's disappointing," Tony decides. "I was hoping for more insight into life and death and the great beyond. But then again, this guy doesn't know shit either."

She's not sure James listens to any of them, he certainly doesn't react. Clint, despite his announcement, still hasn't moved an inch. She shakes her head. "Yeah, sorry. I got nothing."

"Eh, it's fine," Tony replies. "Do y'all ever wonder what women talk about all the time? Cause I do."

Sam snorts. "All the time, yeah? The two minutes since Bobbi arrived, after they haven't seen each other in two years?"

"Sharon doesn't even know her," Tony points out. "And still they flock together instantly. There's something there and I don't understand it."

"Something being the refreshing absence of any kind of machismo?" Natasha suggests.

Tony snorts. "Come on, you don't get it either. You're not in that circle, you're not - you're not that kind of woman."

Somehow, that really stings. "What kind?"

Tony rolls his eyes. "Come on, you know what I mean. The woman kind. The womanly kind of woman."

She's about ready to throw something at him when the door opens and Pepper and Sharon come back, with them a tall blonde woman Natasha's never seen before. Sam gets up, grinning, and hugs her. Clint clears his throat, looking down.

"Ah, long time no see," Bobbi sighs. "You look good."

"You too," Sam replies. "Is it possible you've grown even taller?"

Bobbi snorts, letting go and slapping his shoulder. "Shut up. Hey Fury. Tones, how ya doin'?"

"Excellent," Tony replies. "Nobody listens to me, but other than that, excellent."

"So nothing new there," Bobbi remarks. "Hi Clint. Sorry I didn't call."

"That's alright," Clint replies, though he doesn't look alright with it. "How's Italy?"

"Well, the weather is great," Bobbi points out. "You know, it's got flair, hunting vampires through Florence."

"Oh, we're not talking about that sort of thing anymore," Tony remarks. "Since, ya know, we got a guest."

Bobbi's eyes flit over to where James is standing, practically immobile. "Oh yeah. Fury said."

"Uh, I put all the information together here," Bruce remarks, holding up a thick folder. "I hope that's all."

Bobbi rushes over to hug him. "Oh, hey Brucey! Sorry, didn't mean to leave you out."

Bruce blushes, tentatively hugging her back. "Uh, no problem. It's fine. Hey."

Bobbi snorts, pulling back. "Oh man, you haven't changed at all. Okay, now I got everybody, right? Just making sure."

"Unless you wanna hug the vampire," Tony suggests. "Not sure I'd recommend. Haven't tried, either."

James bares his fangs before catching himself. Bobbi stares at him, eyes narrowing, like a cat about to pounce. "Yeah, so, I'm Natasha," she interjects. "Which you probably already know. And… uh, that is James. Doesn't bite."

Tony snorts. "You know what, that was one of your better jokes."

"Yeah, okay, let's get to it," Bobbi replies, dragging a chair next to Natasha's bed and opening the folder. "Well, let's see… Y'all should probably get out."

"What are you going to do?" James asks quietly.

"I'm going to discuss that with her," Bobbi replies evenly, though the tension in her shoulders betrays her. "No offense."

"And you're a doctor?" James questions.

"Gynecologist," Bobbi explains impatiently. "Formerly. Don't worry about it."

James evidently worries very much about it. "Just want to get it right. You're a hunter as well? And you were here before Natalia?"

"Until about two years ago," Bobbi confirms. "Yeah."

"And you were with Barton before he was with Natalia?" James questions.

"Before he was  _ what _ ?!" Bobbi interrupts.

"Oh, I thought you… knew," James remarks uselessly. Natasha groans.

"I  _ fucking  _ knew it," Tony jumps in. "So you were just lying the whole time-"

"It was one motherfucking time!" Clint defends. "One! Do we really have to-"

"Wow," Bobbi remarks, rubbing her eyes. "That's really fucking low, Clint."

"You were gone," Clint spits out. "I don't owe you-"

"Why does the vampire know all the interesting stuff?" Tony asks.

"Wait, you two had a- a  _ thing _ ?" Pepper pulls a face. "Urgh."

"Come on," Natasha tries. "It's really not a big deal."

"That was almost two years ago-" Clint adds.

"Oh, so right after I'm gone, you screw the-" Bobbi hisses. "Come on! Is she even 21 yet?!"

"24," Natasha remarks sourly.

"Oh yeah?" Clint asks sourly. "So what have you been up to, since-"

"Come on," Pepper interjects. "It's not about her! I just find that really- oh, come on."

"I hope you're not talking about screwing colleagues," Tony remarks. "Cause I got news on that, cupcake."

"That's very different," Pepper rejects. "Just the- Bobbi was here for years, you were together for years, and then you turn around and this girl you barely know- Urgh."

"Okay, you know what, let's postpone that," Bobbi interrupts. "Work to do. Everyone except Natasha out. And don't you think you're in the clear, you're absolutely not."

"You're not my fucking boss," Clint remarks coldly before striding out, slamming the door.

"Well, Natasha," Tony comments. "Looks like we learn something new about you every day."

"Leave her the fuck alone," James hisses.

"Okay, okay, we really should get out," Sam puts in. "Let Bobbi do her job."

"Yes please," Bobbi mutters, thumbing through the folder.

They slowly stream out, one by one, even James. Bobbi keeps going through the folder. Natasha doesn't really dare make a sound. "Bobbi?"

"Hm?"

"Are you mad?"

Bobbi smiles without looking up. "At you? No. I mean, you never even met me. From Clint's part, though, that's very midlife crisis."

Natasha sighs. "Really wasn't a big thing. Just tried it out, you know, and agreed it wasn't right for us."

"I don't want him back," Bobbi states. "I'm not jealous. It's just… disrespectful of what we had, I guess."

"So is it true?" Natasha asks. "You got a new guy?"

Bobbi snorts. "Oh yeah. Not sure about it, though. He's… pretty much like Clint, except he doesn't expect us to have a family. So that's an advantage. Wait, Bruce did an endovaginal scan on you?"

Natasha closes her eyes. "Yeah. Though Sam did the… you know, the fingers up my vagina part."

"Not sure that couldn't have waited a couple of days, but okay," Bobbi remarks. "Good to have it. So, Fury said you want to keep the baby."

Natasha hesitates. "I'm… not so sure about that anymore."

"Well, I'll take a look myself then," Bobbi suggests. "If you even can have it."

* * *

Bobbi does every check imaginable, or so it seems, and somehow none of it is a big deal. Just routine. Couple of moments and then it's done. "So, you really like the vampire, huh?" she asks absentmindedly.

Natasha sighs. "I don't know. It was never meant to be… this serious, you know."

"Does he want you to have it?" Bobbi adds.

"Absolutely not," Natasha replies. "To the effect that he can't be a good father. I don't think it… means anything to him, other than a danger to my life."

"I mean, you don't need him," Bobbi remarks, taking notes. "He's out now. The rest is between you and God. If you're into that."

Natasha snorts. "Right. That."

Bobbi drops the pen, looking up. "Seriously, did he ever try to kill you? Suck your blood?"

"No," Natasha replies quickly. "No. Never. Not even in the very beginning, really."

Bobbi frowns. "And the... bite wound on your shoulder… is…?"

Fuck, she totally forgot about that. "That's… not that. Very recent."

"Sexual," Bobbi states.

"Sort of," Natasha allows. "I don't know, it just… it wasn't a thing, it just… sorta happened. Kinda weird."

"That's probably worse," Bobbi remarks.

"I trust him," Natasha defends. "It wasn't… I don't want to go into it but… it wasn't that. He wasn't trying to turn me, or drink me. Just- dominance. Sexual. Just don't read into it."

Bobbi raises an eyebrow and goes back to her notes. "Okay. Your call. Just, you can tell me. I'm not here to judge."

"No, I can tell you are," Natasha replies. "Even if you try. I'm good, really. That's not the issue. The issue is, well, this."

Bobbi snorts softly. "I'll tell you in a second. Really, though… how did this happen? Not the magic regrowing of your uterus, that's a different can of worms, just… this."

"I don't know," Natasha repeats. "I wasn't looking for this. Just… I never even realized how awkward I felt around everyone else, like I… Over the years as a hunter, I developed this really dark side and… he just understood that and I could just tell him about- stuff I did, that I didn't really like what I was turning into without having to hide- and I understood that he's also trying, that he's captive, that we're quite alike in- I'm sorry, I'm rambling."

"So you like him as a person," Bobbi remarks.

"Yeah," Natasha agrees. "What else?"

"Vampires were always a sexual fantasy," Bobbi replies. "And there's still plenty of would-be monster fuckers out there, believe it or not."

Natasha snorts. "Look, the vampire thing is- a little disgusting, sometimes, frankly, mostly very useful in a fight and… I like him despite it, I guess."

"Okay, I have a last question that I don't usually ask." Bobbi closes the folder, crossing her arms over it. "You need to pinpoint exactly when you conceived, or when you could have conceived. I need to know how long it took to get this big."

"I don't know," Natasha replies. "You got the end of my last period, in there, and-"

"26 days ago," Bobbi replies. "Yes. Every single time you had unprotected sex with him after that."

So all the times. "Look, none of this should have ever been possible-"

"I know," Bobbi interrupts. "It's not about judgement. The thing is, you have a foetus of over 20 weeks in your belly and it matters a great deal whether it grew into that over 25 days or 15 days."

20 weeks. It's a lot scarier when Bobbi says it, rather than Bruce. "I guess… right after. 25 days or so. Then two days after that and… when I killed the black cloak, I guess, though I'm not sure that- wait, I remember the black cloak said I smelled weird. James too. Is it possible they could smell that I was pregnant?"

"Hormonal change, definitely," Bobbi replies. "Ask him sometime whether pregnant women smell special to him. So, to sum up, right after your period, not very likely, you wouldn't be very fertile. Two days after that, still early but possible, especially if your hormones were off. Now, before you killed the black cloak, you injected a lot of vampire blood, right?"

"Right."

"Which is what you take now to keep up with the massive growth of the baby," Bobbi remarks. "Sorry, foetus. So you wouldn't have noticed adverse pregnancy effects until after, which is exactly what happened. That plus the smell. If you conceived about 23 days ago, a week's worth of normal foetus growth would happen in about a day for you."

"And that would mean…"

"That would mean you'd give birth in about two weeks," Bobbi concludes. "I mean, if you decide to. That's up to you."

"But I could?"

"It looks remarkably good, all things considered," Bobbi states. "Your body adjusted well to the current size of the foetus. I can't see anything that would prevent you from having a regular pregnancy, at least right now. Now, there are some caveats."

"I'm listening." Natasha sits up slightly.

"First thing, I cannot make any guarantees for the next two weeks," Bobbi starts. "It looks normal right now but that could change any day. So really can't promise you'll get to carry this to term, or what comes out then. Second thing, I'm absolutely morally okay with aborting up to the day of birth in this case. It's gonna be messy, given the size and possible complications, but if it's necessary, I'll absolutely do it. And I want you to consent to that right now, in case the complications are so severe you wouldn't be conscious. Is that okay with you?"

"You mean, if it's literally killing me?" Natasha asks.

"That," Bobbi confirms. "Or posing a severe risk to your health. This is already pretty risky, of course, but you get the idea."

"Okay," Natasha remarks. "If you're not opposed in principle to me having it… I trust you."

"Thank you." Bobbi opens the folder again. "Now, third thing… you injected a lot of vampire blood already and you're probably going to need more over the next two weeks. I'm really not an expert on that, better ask Bruce, but… it's gonna have long-term consequences. I have no idea which but this will affect your body somehow. Maybe it will weaken your bones, lead to organ failure, increased risk of stroke, cancer, impact your auto-immune system, who knows, really, but something's going to happen. Now, Fury said the Red Skull is hunting you, so your life expectancy is not that high anyway, but if you live for a few more years or decades, there'll be consequences. Do you understand that?"

"I'm already in for that, right?" Natasha shakes her head. "I stopped thinking about the long term long ago."

"Haven't we all," Bobbi mutters. "Okay, one more thing… maybe Bruce already told you."

"What?"

"Your ovaries look really bad," Bobbi states. "You already had damage to them, according to Bruce's notes, but they've shrunk even more. I can't predict it with certainty but it is very likely you will go into menopause right after this, never have your period again, never have another child. I'd assume that factors into your decision."

Natasha swallows. "So this… window I never thought would open just opened, and if I don't jump through right now, it's gone again. This is the only shot."

"The only shot for biologically having your own child," Bobbi specifies. "There's always the possibility for adoption, so you shouldn't feel too pressured by that. Just laying it all out."

Natasha snorts, letting her head drop back, eyes towards the concrete ceiling. "I feel pretty pressured, though."

"Sorry, but in the end, it's your choice," Bobbi replies. "I won't object from a medical standpoint if you decide to continue, at least right now. It may be dumb but this desire to procreate, to have your own child is deeply ingrained. I'd understand if you want to continue, and I'd understand if you don't."

"Let's assume I change my mind in a few days," Natasha suggests. "Would you… even if there's no medical emergency, would you still… do the abortion?"

"Absolutely," Bobbi replies without hesitation. "Told you. This is a vampire baby, so all rules and procedures are off. Also, you've known you're pregnant for a couple of days now, that would be ridiculous."

"If I decide to continue, I can change my mind later," Natasha sums up. "And if I decide not to, I can't."

"Really can't put it back in, no," Bobbi confirms with a grin. "So yeah. If you've got a real interest in having this child and you're willing to take the risk, it makes most sense to wait and see how it goes. Then you can also talk it over with, you know, whoever you want to talk it over with."

"I think… talking to you…" Natasha shakes her head. "I think that already helped me a lot."

"That's part of my job," Bobbi replies, pushing her chair back. "Or it used to be, before. Okay, then I'll go and tell the others you're keeping it for now, and then I'll probably go to sleep. Had a long drive. But I'll be back tomorrow, don't worry."

"Yeah, okay." Natasha closes her eyes. "Thanks, really. I know that's a lot to ask from you as well."


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo... the Bucky-Steve meeting y'all have been waiting for. It's very brief, though.

"This is gonna be the worst Christmas ever," Tony mutters, sanding off the edges of a piece of metal. "If we even make it till then. Doesn't look great, does it."

"Christmas?" Natasha questions. "Seriously?"

"It's December, you whale," Tony returns, wiping grease onto his forehead. "And then a new millennium. Thought that would be a lot cooler. All the tech we were gonna have, right… though you probably don't care about that in Russia, you count the years since Stalin's death or something."

"Fuck off," Natasha returns, clutching the bag of peanuts. "Like you would know that, you imperialist capitalist fat cat."

"Sounds about right," Tony admits. "So you're really going to have the monster baby, huh?"

"You don't know it's going to be a monster," Natasha says.

"And you do?" Tony questions. "Because of what, your supreme female intuition?"

"Come on, it's literally inside of me, I can tell whether it's trying to kill me or not," Natasha returns. "You looked at it once under the ultrasound."

"Yeah, you're full of pregnancy hormones, though," Tony points out. "Weird that you're so dead set on that."

"Why is that weird?" Natasha hisses. "Because I'm not the, what was it, the womanly kind of woman, not a real woman?"

Tony groans. "Oh come on, I didn't mean it like that. Nothing negative about it. Just, you're obviously not…  _ that _ ."

" _ What _ ?" Natasha asks.

"You know what I mean!" Tony shakes his head. "Kind or nurturing or… soft, really. Caring. None of that's you, and I thought you knew that and were okay with that, but maybe you're not."

"Maybe I am," Natasha suggests. "But I still want that fucking baby."

"I mean, that's your business," Tony allows. "But you're kinda skipping on the job, letting us deal with the invasion of the black cloaks on our own. There, done."

She didn't even think about the black cloaks. "Done what?"

"Metal arm," Tony replies briefly, raising smooth pieces of metal. "As promised. I'll get your friend and fit it to him, and then go the fuck to sleep."

* * *

"Isn't it hurting?" Natasha asks, nibbling away at a cookie.

"Yes," James replies, not even pulling a face as Tony removes another piece of metal from his arm.

"Just give him anesthesia already!" Natasha complains. "What the fuck is this?"

"Yeah, and what, and how much?" Tony questions, putting the rusted metal plate down. "No one knows how his body reacts. I thought you'd prefer if we didn't potentially poison him."

"It's fine," James mutters. "Really."

Natasha snorts. "Oh fuck off. Don't give me that tough guy macho bullshit."

James smirks, almost grins, until Tony starts cutting out another piece of old metal. "Not gonna lie, this is gonna take a while. So brace yourself, buddy."

Natasha swallows the rest of the cookie, slipping down into more of a lying position. "Yeah, Bobbi said pretty much the same thing."

"Does it hurt?" James asks, and she could hit herself for worrying him again.

"No, no, not at all." She sighs. "Just feels weird. Bloated. I don't feel it moving, by the way, not sure why."

"I could give you an electric shock," Tony ponders. "That'd numb your arm. Probably hurts just as bad, though."

"No electric shocks," James states, no room for discussion. "Are you sure it's… fine?"

"Bobbi said so," Natasha replies, for the umpteenth time. "And I'm pretty fresh on the vampire blood, so I feel quite good, actually. Maybe it'll start kicking soon, who knows."

Tony snorts, pulling out another metal part. "Yeah, then it's over with sleeping all day long like a princess-"

The door at the back of the lab cracks open, apparently  _ not  _ locked, and James jumps up before Tony yanks him down again. "Hey, hey, hold still."

James sits down reluctantly, turning his face away from the door where a blonde guy is peering in carefully. He doesn't look good, popped veins under his skin, looks like inflammation as well, and very pale. "Uh, hey. Is… is Sam here?"

"Hey," Natasha replies, rearranging her shirt. "I think Sam's upstairs. I'd go check but… well."

He stares at her belly, which, yeah. "Oh. You're…"

"Yeah, long story," Natasha agrees. "Just sit down and wait, I guess, somebody will come down here sooner or later."

"Yeah, can't move right now," Tony adds. "And this guy either."

"Sure, thanks," Steve says, clinging to the door. "Just, uh- wait, Bucky?"

James cringes hard. "No, wait, he got lost years ago," Steve retreats. "50 years ago, if- wow. No, sorry- unless…"

"Steve-" James starts weakly, careful not to open his mouth too much.

"Oh gosh." Steve takes a step forward. "How did you- You look weird. Your eyes- Are you okay? How did you get here? I'm really glad to see you but you really look strange, sound strange too-"

James presses his lips together. Tony looks increasingly amused, not very helpful. "Hey Steve," Natasha interjects, pushing herself upright. "Maybe we could walk a few steps and talk a little, could we do that?"

"Uh, yes, sure," Steve agrees with surprise. "But you really don't have to get up if-"

"It's fine, totally fine," Natasha waves off, breathing deep before pushing herself up, gripping the IV. "Phew. Haven't been up in a while. Just a second. No, no, I don't need the help."

"Are you sure-" James starts.

"Yes, yes, don't worry," Natasha interrupts even though she still sees stars. "I'm not sick. Over there, could you just hold the door- yeah, thanks, that's it."

Steve holds the door open for her dutifully, chancing a look towards James who's staring at the ground. She pushes past him, dragging the IV drip with her. She's kind of forgotten how to walk so she has to do it slowly and pay attention. Her center of gravity has shifted slightly as well so she has to balance that. "Close the door, please?"

Steve rips his eyes away from James, pulls the door shut and turns to Natasha. She rubs the very tight skin of her belly. "Yeah, so, I know it's a lot for you right now, everything… I guess there's no easy way to break it to you."

"Bucky is a vampire," Steve states. "Is that- Bucky is a  _ vampire _ ."

"Yes," Natasha confirms quietly. "He's a vampire. Has been for 50 years."

Steve staggers back slightly, leaning against a shelf. "Oh gosh. Is he- did he- does that mean he killed someone? Has he killed people?"

"Probably," Natasha admits. "I'm sorry."

Steve rubs over his slightly swollen face. "Did he turn- he turned people into vampires, did he?"

"Yeah," Natasha replies. "Probably a lot of people. He didn't want you to know but that wouldn't have worked for long."

" _ Fuck _ ," Steve breathes. "Sorry. But he's still- still  _ Bucky _ , isn't he? He's still the same- even with the teeth and the eyes and that, even if he- did that, all of that, he must still be the same person?"

"I don't know if he's the same," Natasha replies. "I can't tell you that. But he's still a person. He's not a monster, even if he did all that bad shit."

"Oh man." Steve rubs his face again. "I don't know if I can- I need to sit down. Sorry."

"Yeah, sure," Natasha replies with amusement. "Take your time."

Steve drops onto the stretcher which creaks loudly. "But if Bucky is still- even if he's a vampire- then aren't all vampires still people? Redeemable?"

Natasha snorts. "Nah, I wouldn't go that far. He's… he's special."

Steve stares at her belly as if he only just remembered. "Wait, are you-"

"Yep."

"You're having  _ Bucky _ 's baby?"

"Yeah, that's his."

"But he's a  _ vampire _ -"

"It was an accident but I'm going with it. For now."

Steve rubs his eyes. "Oh man. Sorry, but- who are you again?"

"Natasha," she replies. "It's a long story."

"Steve," he replies reflexively. "Uh, I'm sorry if that was rude, I didn't mean to-"

"No, no, it's fine," Natasha assures him. "This must be pretty difficult for you. I guess I'll just go back and leave you to stomach that, take your time."

"But aren't you one of the ones who hunt and fight against the vampires?" Steve insists.

"Yeah, sure," Natasha confirms, patting her belly. "Right now, not so much. Long story. But really, we don't have to do it all right now, just sit with it for a while and come back when you're ready."

Steve closes his eyes. "Yes. Alright. Just- Bucky's under- he's not dangerous right now? He's under control?"

Great, one more guy that's worrying about her safety. "Yes, yes, don't worry about him. He's not going to hurt anyone here."

"Okay," Steve mutters. "I'm sorry, I think I need to lay down again. Thanks for telling me all that."

He really doesn't look good, greener than before. "Sure. I'm going to lay down as well. Uh, do you want something to eat? I have a lot of food over there."

"Thanks, but my stomach is not doing so well yet," Steve admits, settling down on the stretcher. "Sam brought me a lot of dry bread, so it's fine."

"Yeah, okay." Natasha opens the door again, dragging the IV drip out of the way. "If you need anything, just come over."

James and Tony are still exactly where they were before, James looking up when she closes the door behind her. "It's okay. You just need to talk to him at some point."

"Okay," James says, even though he doesn't sound okay. "Is walking really-"

"Jesus Christ, for the final time, just hold still," Tony interrupts with exasperation. "Is that so hard?"

"Maybe I could go upstairs, or even outside," Natasha ponders, settling on the bed. "Some fresh air, sunlight…"

"There's a chance that's really bad for the little vampire spawn," Tony remarks, trying to fit a shiny metal plate in. "Or for you on vampire blood. Burst into dust bad. Abortion by sunlight bad."

"Is everything that's remotely fun forbidden?" Natasha complains.

"I thought sex with vampires was forbidden," Tony states carelessly. "But apparently… oh, he doesn't like it when I mention that."

"Fuck off," James hisses.

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Tony replies, picking up the next metal plate. "You're touchy about that."

Another door opens, this time the one leading to the stairs. "Hey," Clint greets. "Supposed to check in on you."

"Everything's totally fine," Natasha returns. "Could you help me up the stairs? I haven't seen anything but this room in days."

"Uh, yeah, sure." Clint rubs through his hair. "Guess I'll carry the IV thingy. Really a shame we never got that elevator."

"Yeah, really hard to get a mechanic these days," Tony mutters. "No, seriously, don't let her in the sunlight if she wants to keep that cute fangy baby."

"What?" Clint questions. "Isn't the whole point of the baby that it's  _ inside  _ of her?"

"You guys are weird," Natasha remarks, slipping off the bed. "Good luck with the arm, though, it looks promising."

"Why, thank you." Tony bows his head graciously. "It was a lot of work. Now, if this guy would stop fidgeting-"

"I'm not fidgeting," James hisses. "It just really fucking  _ hurts _ ."

"Told you," Tony states coldly, pressing the metal plate in deeper.

"It's gonna be alright," Natasha repeats. "Okay? I'll come back down, won't be a long trip."

"Yeah, okay," James mutters, teeth gritted.

Clint holds the door open for her as she makes her way through it with the IV. The stairs look taller than ever. "Yeah, so, for the sake of your jealous boyfriend, I'd prefer if I don't have to carry you up the stairs," Clint remarks. "So take it slow and pace yourself."

Natasha snorts, gripping the railing. "He's not  _ that  _ jealous. Oh boy."

Clint presses a hand against the small of her back, steadying her. "You alright?"

"Yeah, yeah, just wasn't pacing myself enough," Natasha mutters. "Uh, I'm sorry he said that. To Bobbi. Well, to everyone."

Clint huffs with amusement, picking up the IV and stepping up the stairs behind her. "Eh, not that big of a deal, actually. Whether she knows or not."

"Did you fight?" Natasha asks quietly. More steps. "I thought I heard screaming last night."

"We always fight," Clint replies earnestly. "Her knowing doesn't change what happened, so no big deal."

Natasha stops to catch her breath. "What do you mean, what happened?"

Clint sighs. "Look, you couldn't know that at the time, but- that really was pretty shitty on my part, from the space I was in then, and it was dumb and spiteful and literally everything she says now. I shouldn't have dragged you into the aftermath of our breakup and expected that to make the pain disappear. Whether or not Bobbi knows, I know what it was and that's enough."

"Mhm." Natasha shakes her head. "Sounds pretty dire. Do you regret it?"

Clint grins. "Eh, not that bad. Look, you almost made it upstairs, don't give up now."

Natasha snorts. "Just pacing myself. Really, don't give yourself such a hard time over the whole thing. Yeah, sure, maybe it was all that but people just do dumb shit after breakups. I know I did."

"Like sleeping with a vampire?" Clint suggests.

She would've slapped him if he hadn't ducked. "That's years apart! Nothing to do with each other! If anything, sleeping with you."

"Yeah, okay." Clint shrugs. "Guess I shouldn't ignore all the mental politics and baggage you had involved, because you clearly had. Focusing too much on my own bullshit again."

"When there's so much bullshit to go around," Natasha notes, turning to look up the stairs again. "Okay. Just a few more. We can do this."

Clint snorts. "Not to brag, but I can walk up stairs in one go."

* * *

"Oh, wow," Bobbi remarks, jumping up. "You're up?"

"Yeah, just had to move," Natasha breathes, gripping the first thing she can. "Don't worry, I'm just going to sit down right now."

Sam doesn't meet her gaze. "Wait, I'll move that out of the way," Bobbi suggests, pulling the couch table back. "You good?"

"Yeah, I'm-  _ ow! _ " Natasha grips her belly with both hands, almost toppling over. "Fuck. That hurt."

Bobbi helps her lay down on the couch. "Oh yeah, don't believe the magic gift of life bullshit, it's really fucking annoying and the rest is just lying hormones. Better?"

"Yeah." Natasha breathes deeply, head dropping back, eyes closed. "Just- felt like I was going to explode."

"Nah, you're stronger than that," Bobbi replies, putting a hand on her belly. "Whoops, there we go again. Should feel less intense when you're lying down."

It does. "That thing's pretty strong, isn't it," Natasha whispers.

"Yeah, but not abnormal," Bobbi returns. "But we can look at it if you want."

"Mhm, maybe later," Natasha suggests. "I'm just going to lie here for a while. Tony's blowing around a lot of metal dust down there."

"Oh yeah, he said something about that," Bobbi replies. "Pretty interesting. Right, I wanted to check that out."

"Sure, why not," Natasha agrees. "If you're sure I'm not going to explode."

"You're not going to explode," Bobbi assures her, getting up. "Okay? Call me if you need anything."

"Will do," Natasha replies. "Uh, Clint?"

Clint, who had kind of faded into the background, takes a step forward again. "Hm?"

"Sorry but- I'm kind of hungry again?" Natasha asks carefully. "Could you...?"

Clint snorts. "You're unbelievable. I'll be right back."

"Looks like you're taken care of," Bobbi remarks, disappearing around the corner.

Sam sits down on the couch across from her, hands folded. "Hey."

Natasha closes her eyes again. "Mhm. Hey."

"Sorry I'm being awkward," Sam says quietly. "When that's exactly what you didn't want."

Natasha snorts. "Eh, it's fine. Can't pay that much attention to that sort of thing right now."

"Can't unsee and unfeel that," Sam suggests with amusement. "It'll pass."

Natasha opens her eyes. "You're not- hitting on me?"

"No, no," Sam replies quickly. "Just being awkward again and making it worse."

"See how that feels?" Natasha remarks with amusement. "Glad it's hitting you this time."

"Nah, you can have it back," Sam returns. "You were way better at not giving a fuck."

"I give way too many fucks," Natasha replies. "By the way, I talked to the frozen guy, Steve. Told him his buddy is a vampire now and all."

"Sounds fun," Sam replies. "About the baby thing too?"

"Very briefly," Natasha allows. "Maybe you should go down and talk to him, he seemed more comfortable with you."

"Honestly, it helps just to leave him alone," Sam explains. "Otherwise, you constantly come upon new things he doesn't yet know about."

"Pepper's chocolate chip cookies," Clint announces with the jar in hand. "I really don't want to cook, badger Sam about that."

Natasha snorts, taking the entire jar. "Nah, it's fine. Thanks."

"I'll make you a protein shake," Sam offers. "Minerals and all."

"Good idea, thanks," Natasha replies. "Is everyone else in bed?"

"Bruce is," Clint replies, dropping onto a chair. "Fury too. Pepper and Sharon are out on patrol."

"Isn't that dangerous?" Natasha asks, reaching deep into the cookie jar.

Clint snorts. "It's always dangerous. But if black cloaks come into our town, we'd better know soon."

Natasha pats her belly. "This is just really bad timing, isn't it?"

"Yeah, why couldn't you hook up with a vampire after we kill them all," Clint remarks sarcastically. "Really a lack of foresight on your part."

"I'm serious," Natasha insists. "I could be out there. I should be out there."

"But you can't and you aren't," Clint returns. "That's just what it is. Fretting about it doesn't help. And it's probably too late, you wouldn't be back in shape even if, you know… if you had the abortion right now."

"Clint, this is-" Natasha sighs. "This is really important to me. I know it's hard to understand but it just is."

"You're fretting again," Clint informs her. "I'm not going to tell you what to do. Just do it."

She sighs, closing her eyes. "Do it is a little much for lying around, sleeping and eating."

* * *

"Princess's asleep?"

"Yeah, the stairs must have really exhausted her."

"Your ex is way too smart for you, by the way."

"Already knew that, didn't we."

"Hence the ex."

"Oh, fuck off."

"What, you just said it yourself!"

"Still don't like you saying it."

"Yeah, the Widow's too hot for you, too, so I see how that wouldn't work."

"Not that shit again-"

"Like, she's Lara Croft. Or the chick from Resident Evil. Every guy wants that, including the vampire."

"I'll tell Pepper you said that."

"I'll tell Bobbi all the mean things you said about her after your breakup."

"...how about we don't do either of that."

"Agreed."

"Now shut up about Nat, she's a friend."

"Oh yeah, I see that."

"Jesus Christ, fuck off."

"Gotta be hard, having the vampire run around."

"They both know I don't like him, so I really don't have to bother."

"And the baby."

"Yeah, but… we all throw our hopes and expectations out every year or so, so nothing new."

"You sound really old."

"Stopped trying not to."

"You mean, when you stopped chasing the twenty-something feral cat?"

"Jesus Christ, shut up before someone hears you."


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a fun chapter. Eeeeveryone's backstories.

"Where'd your friend go?" Tony asks, grabbing the chips. "Turned around and he was gone."

"I don't know, I'm not his babysitter," Natasha returns, nibbling on a carrot. "Can I ask you something?"

"You mean, whether it's bad when your boyfriend finds out you're pregnant and disappears without a word?" Tony specifies, licking his fingers. "Yeah, it is."

Natasha snorts. "Fuck off, that's not what happened. Who's Lara Croft?"

Tony snorts, dropping onto the couch. "Oh, great, so you just pretend to be asleep the whole time. Do you actually eat or is that also some magic trick?"

"Answer my question, you coward," she returns, picking up cucumber slices.

Tony sighs. "Well, that's not exactly up your alley but- it was one of the last video games that came out, couple of years ago. Nobody really cared, because of vampires and all, but I think it would have fared much better otherwise. She's an archaeologist, but the cool kind, looking for hidden treasures, fighting mummies and tomb raiders- actually, that was the name of the game. Yeah, and she's animated but- she was always wearing tank tops and shorts and all."

"Oh God," Natasha remarks with amusement. "That is  _ horrible _ ."

"Was just a joke," Tony defends. "Yeah, and the lady from Resident Evil fights vampires, in similar garments. You get the picture."

"Have you ever seen me in  _ shorts _ ?" Natasha questions. "That's ridiculous. So you were just hitting on me while I was asleep."

"Not that asleep, apparently," Tony points out wistfully. "Nah, just pointing out the archetype, extra tough sexy badass and all. And, well, looks really cool from a distance, not sure it's as cool when you get closer."

"You were totally attracted to me when I got here," Natasha recalls. "But then you tried to set me up with your best friend and- I don't know, I never took it seriously. Also, you were with Pepper and I'm really not a homewrecker."

"So vampires are cool but taken guys aren't?" Tony prompts. "Also, if you'd let yourself be set up, you wouldn't be in this mess."

"Yep, and I'd also be either dead or a vampire right now," Natasha returns. "Doesn't that sound great."

"I think you're well on your way to being dead but Bobbi seems to disagree, so what do I know." Tony rubs his forehead. "But-  _ Barton _ ?"

Natasha snorts. "You're really blowing this way out of proportion. And don't give me that shit that he's older than me, you're all older than me except for Sharon, and I already got that from the vampire."

"The fuck does he think he can tell you," Tony remarks. "When he's basically a hundred years old."

"Eh, don't worry about it," Natasha returns, picking up another carrot. "I mean, he went pretty hard to our side. A traitor of all vampirekind or whatever."

"You just enjoy making people do radical stuff, don't you?" Tony grins. "Manipulating people, having that power. Don't think Lara Croft was like that."

"Yeah, maybe stop comparing me to pixel women in shorts," she counters. "Just trying not to get killed, thank you very much."

"Hey guys." Bobbi turns the corner, yawning. "How are you? Don't listen to Tony."

"What'd I  _ do  _ to you?" Tony complains.

Bobbi snorts, crossing her arms. "Is he telling you you can't be a hunter? Cause that's what he used to tell me."

"Not true," Tony objects. "I said you weren't  _ ready  _ to be a hunter. And then you went out anyway and promptly got hurt."

Bobbi shrugs. "Learning by doing. Honestly, Pepper would have started going out much earlier if you hadn't told her it's too dangerous."

Natasha follows the exchange with amusement, nibbling on her carrot. "It is dangerous!" Tony defends. "And I built her the suit, don't act like I wasn't supporting her."

"Y'all can't deal with loss, is what I'm saying," Bobbi returns. "You only built her the suit because she was about ready to break up with you. Different kind of loss."

Tony snorts. "You know what, I really didn't miss that argument."

"You guys seem fun," Natasha throws in. "I'm good, by the way."

"Yeah, I actually came down so we could do some prenatal prep," Bobbi replies. "Because you only got two weeks."

"What the fuck is that?" Natasha asks.

Bobbi grins, gliding her hands into the pockets of her sweatpants. "Pushing and breathing. Not much more. Certain muscles you need. It's pretty awkward, though, so let's better do it downstairs or somewhere else private."

"I thought you'd just do a C-section," Tony suggests.

"Not if I can avoid it," Bobbi replies. "Not sure we have the equipment for that. Risk of infection, risk of strong bleeding, I'd rather try the vaginal route if it's possible."

"...I'm just gonna keep that joke to myself," Tony suggests.

"Thanks," Bobbi replies. "Very generous of you."

* * *

"Tony said you were doing lady stuff," Pepper remarks, putting her helmet down. "And we want in on that."

"What, you also want prenatal prep?" Bobbi asks, spinning in her chair like she was born in it. "How was patrol? Quiet night?"

"Quite the opposite," Sharon replies, hopping onto a table. "Saw three vampires. One got away. All fledglings, they must have come in from outside town."

"Three?" Natasha repeats with worry. "We haven't seen a single one in  _ weeks _ ."

"Maybe that was your friend's doing," Pepper suggests, pulling off the shoulder plates. "You should ask him. Where is he, by the way?"

"I don't know, guess he left," Natasha admits. "He'll come back sometime."

She hates how vague that sounds, but she really doesn't know. "He ran into Steve, didn't he?" Sharon suggests. "That probably scared him."

Right. Completely harmless explanation. "Oh, but this is great," Pepper remarks, brushing through her hair. "I haven't met so many friends in a long time."

"Yeah, tell me everything!" Bobbi encourages, giggling. "How are things with Tony?"

"Pretty good," Pepper replies, also leaning against the table. "Really good actually. I still have to kick him once in a while but not as often. So I'm pretty happy."

"Kicking him sounds kind of fun, though," Sharon remarks. "Am I wrong?"

Pepper snorts, crossing her legs. "Sometimes. Mostly, it's annoying."

"Still sounds better than when I left," Bobbi insists, crossing her arms. "Honestly, I wouldn't have bet on you two making it. You know, Tony being Tony. Reason enough to dump him."

"He's really improved!" Pepper returns. "Anyway. What about your new guy?"

Bobbi sighs. "Eh, he's fine. Drives me nuts. In the good ways and the bad ways. But it doesn't have to be perfect and it doesn't have to be forever, so it's fine."

Sharon shrugs. "I don't know. Dating someone you hunt with sounds like a hassle."

"Oh yeah, why not date someone you hunt?" Bobbi interrupts. "Like a vampire?"

Sharon giggles. "Oh, come on! No offense, Natasha."

"No problem," Natasha replies, even though this whole situation freaks her out. Like, what is she supposed to say? She's sitting there, stone-faced, just listening and waiting-

"That has to be really weird, though," Pepper states. "Physically weird. Just their body temperature, and everything they smell… and the fangs!"

Bobbi chuckles. "Why not ask? Hey Nat, come on, we want to hear something."

Shit. "Oh, we won't tell," Sharon promises. "Ladies' room promise."

Natasha groans, rubbing her face. "Fine. The… what was it?"

"Body temperature, fangs, weird dick, anything," Bobbi repeats. "The juicier, the better."

Natasha snorts. "His dick's perfectly normal. Though- nah, I'm not sure I wanna tell you that."

Bobbi groans. "You motherfucking tease."

"That bad?" Sharon encourages, smiling way too nicely.

Urgh, fine, she's gonna die sooner rather than later anyway. "Not bad. Just, he always has two orgasms. One with just a little bit of stimulation and then he's still hard, you know, second orgasm a while later, everything normal. But it's always two."

"Oh my God, tell me more." Bobbi swirls in her chair, crunching up her face. "But he ejaculates both times?"

What an ugly word. "Yeah, but not very much. Anyway, I think that's all the vampire stuff."

"But he's cold, isn't he?" Pepper questions.

Natasha sighs, letting her head drop back against the pillow. "Sometimes. Just, when you touch him, he gets warmer? In the beginning, it took a while but now, he's basically always warm around me, even before I touch him. And softer, too, just more human, you know? And it worked on the other black cloak, too, not just on James. I don't know."

"The fuck," Bobbi remarks. "Just around you? No one else? That's creepy."

"I don't think anyone else really touched him," Sharon throws in. "So we don't know. Maybe it's psychological, you know, because he's only attracted to her."

"Yeah, we should test that," Bobbi suggests. "Just hold his hand for a while, see what happens."

Natasha snorts. "Well, ask him. When he comes back."

There's a knock on the door and it takes them all a moment to realize it's not the door to upstairs but the one in the back. Sharon hops off the table. "Is that the room with the ice block?" Bobbi asks. "Is that where you put him?"

"Steve," Sharon replies tensely. Pepper walks to the door. "Yes."

Pepper pulls the door open. It's indeed Steve, steadied against the wall. He doesn't look good but he never really does. "Hello," Pepper starts in her professional secretary voice. "I think Sam is still asleep but maybe we can help you?"

Steve blinks at them slowly. Sharon's knuckles are white against the edge of the table. "Oh, no, I really don't want to bother you, I don't need anything, just- do you mind if I join you?"

"Oh, sure thing." Bobbi gets up and pushes her chair towards him. "Here, sit down. No need to exhaust yourself."

Steve drops heavily into the chair. "Thank you. Uh, you're… you're not Sharon, are you?"

"Nope," Bobbi replies cheerfully, pointing to her right. "That's Sharon. That's Natasha, that's Pepper and I'm Bobbi. You're Steve."

Steve smiles as soon as he sees Sharon. "Oh, hey. I saw you- I don't know how long ago that was. Maybe a few days?"

Yeah, and he talked to Natasha yesterday but maybe he already forgot that. "Hey," Sharon blurts out. "I'm- Grandma is- I'm Peggy's granddaughter. She's my grandma."

Steve just blinks for a while. "I'm sorry, I'm still- oh, the- Peggy? Peggy Carter? From Britain?"

"Yes!" Sharon exclaims. "Sorry. Well, after the war, she got married and had my mom and- well, my mom had me and here we are, I guess."

Steve smiles again. "Oh, I see the- the resemblance now. Is she- How is she?"

Sharon giggles. "Oh, good. I mean, she's getting old but still holding on as always, you know her. I haven't seen her in a while, though, travel is very difficult."

"Oh, I absolutely remember that," Steve replies. "She was so determined and disciplined and smart, of course- oh, but she has to be very old now, the- what year is it again?"

"She's 78," Sharon says. "It's 1999. December 1999."

"Wow." Steve rubs his swollen red face. "That- I won't get used to that anytime soon."

Bobbi chuckles. "Uh, should we let y'all work that out alone or…?"

Steve turns. "Sorry, Ma'am. Are- You sound Southern."

"Georgia," Bobbi confirms. "But I'm not related to anyone. And I don't live here anymore, normally. Transferred to Florence, Italy."

"Oh, and I talked to you- was that yesterday?" Steve turns to her lying on the bed. "Was- It was Natasha, wasn't it?"

"Yep," Natasha replies. "Still very visibly pregnant, so I guess you won't confuse me."

Steve blushes, remembering. "Right. Is- is Bucky here?"

"No, he left," Natasha tells him. "Guess he needed some space, after running into you."

Steve groans. "Right, sorry. Does- wait, he would remember Peggy, too, wouldn't he?"

"James doesn't remember shit," Natasha returns. "Sorry. Not Peggy, not you, not anything before he turned into a vampire. Maybe it'll come back slowly but not right now."

"That's- unfortunate." Steve sighs. "That's probably why he- well, I guess he doesn't want to see me then."

"Natasha is a little harsh," Sharon admonishes. "I'm sure he'll remember eventually and it'll all work out."

"Yeah, after the vampire baby bullshit, nothing surprises me anymore," Bobbi remarks.

Steve blushes again. "Uh, so- what are you guys doing here? You're not from here, are you?"

"Oh, I'm Czech," Pepper replies. "Little village in Southern Bohemia, near the Austrian border. Came to Prague to get a job, ended up at this American company that was just getting started over here- with a really, let's say, eccentric boss- yes, and then the vampires. Let's say it really didn't go the way I planned."

"I'm Russian," Natasha adds. "Or I was."

"British American," Sharon states.

"But-" Steve coughs. "Pepper?"

"Oh, that's not my actual name," Pepper replies. "It's Jindřiška. But none of you can say that, so Tony called me Pepper and that stuck."

"And Tony is the-" Steve prompts.

"You saw him already, he was working on James' arm yesterday," Natasha remarks.

"He used to be my boss," Pepper explains. "He's sort of an engineer, an inventor. His company, the one he inherited from his father, used to produce weapons but he's moved it to energy production, reactors and the like, all of it renewable. Though it feels like he really worked on everything at some point, just like Bruce."

Steve rubs his temples. "Oh man. Who is Bruce again?"

"Our resident doctor," Bobbi replies. "He's brilliant, really. Fury recruited him. He used to study biochemistry somewhere in Sweden but when you break your arm, he'll fix that, too."

"Bobbi is a doctor, too," Pepper points out.

"Yeah, different kind, though." Bobbi shakes her head. "I got a medical degree, too, but I specialize in women's health. That's actually how I got here, because I volunteered in the early nineties when they didn't have enough experts in that around here, a lot of them had emigrated. Well, the thing is, babies tend to get born in the middle of the night, so I had to make spontaneous visits while the vampires are out in the streets. Clint started to accompany me, to convoy me so I could do my job without getting killed and… yeah, I wanted to be a hunter, too. So now I'm both."

"People really have a lot less babies now," Sharon remarks. "Not the world you want your child to grow up in."

Steve coughs, swallows. "Right. Uh, so… what did you do, before, Sharon?"

"Nothing," Sharon replies, smiling. "Just finished school. I've always been a hunter."

"Oh yeah," Natasha agrees. "Me too."

"Oh, but Natasha is probably the best tracker in the world," Sharon points out. "Really. She's been doing this longer than any of us."

How she wishes she hadn't. Maybe then she wouldn't be so tired from it. Steve looks confused once more. "What's a tracker?"

"That's a kind of hunter, someone who's very good at finding vampires," Sharon explains. "In the early days, they traveled, following specific vampires and hunting them down, but these days, there are just too bloody many. It's still useful, though, on patrols. I'm a tracker, too."

"Well, I think now we've got everyone," Pepper remarks. "Except for Clint, he's the one with the bow-"

"The- sorry for interrupting," Steve interjects. "With the  _ bow _ ?"

Bobbi snorts. "Yeah, the bow. Gotta say, it's efficient because you only need to make the tip of the arrow out of silver, instead of the whole knife. But mostly, he just likes to be special or he'd use a gun. Oh, we used to date, if you didn't notice already."

"And Fury, of course," Pepper adds. "Fury is- well, Fury. You'll know when you see him. Rumor is he was a CIA agent stationed somewhere in the Eastern Bloc, and he just stayed around after. And this is not the first station he's run. But really, we don't know, he's not one to share."

"Could you- tell me about Sam, too?" Steve asks.

"His parents were from Angola," Bobbi tells him. "He came here very young. His dad was- was it agriculture? I don't know, he was some technical expert. They came here as refugees, from the civil war, and his father went through East Berlin to West Berlin to the US, trying to get a green card there. Of course, that took years, so Sam mostly grew up here. Yeah, and then he moved to the US, joined the Airforce, all that. Came back when vampires were starting to become a thing here."

"Oh yes, he said it- there are more here?" Steve states tentatively. "Vampires, I mean."

"Yeah, it started in Russia," Natasha remarks. "And you can thank your buddy for that."

Bobbi snaps around. "Wait, what?!"

"He told me," Natasha admits. "Schmidt sent him and he bit four people in Moscow, four in Saint Petersburg. Eight in total. There were others sent to other countries but those were the first ones."

"That  _ motherfucker. _ " Bobbi snorts, crossing her arms. "I'm definitely not holding his hand anymore."

Steve blushes. "Uh, were you going to…?"

"Oh, we thought about doing an experiment," Sharon explains. "We were talking about that, actually, before- Well, vampires are usually cold, you know? But Natasha said her friend's not cold when she touches him, so… we just wanted to find out how that works."

Steve blushes even more, probably every time he's reminded his old buddy-new vampire knocked her up. "Oh. Didn't think about that."

"Only eight people?" Pepper repeats. "Really?"

"He thought that was enough," Natasha replies. "And boy it was."

"Wait, just so I get that right," Steve interjects. "Bucky caused a global vampire epidemic?"

Well, calling him Bucky really doesn't help. "Pretty much. He didn't know much about the others. I should mention there's some form of mind control involved, from a vampire to the vampire that bit them, though not in every case. Schmidt bit all of the black cloaks, so…"

"Mind control, too?" Bobbi snorts. "Oh, fuck that. That's bullshit."

All that cursing doesn't appear to be good for Steve, blushing and coughing. "But we don't really know how that works either, do we?" Sharon adds.

Natasha shakes her head. "Well, that's going to be an issue if Schmidt shows up."

"Uh, why would Schmidt- he's the Nazi vampire, right?" Steve asks. "Why would he show up? And what are black cloaks?"

Bobbi groans, rolling her head. "Oh man, we're going to be here for a long time, aren't we?"

* * *

They don't get a lot further until Steve is so overwhelmed and tired he goes straight back to bed. Natasha eats a huge amount of pasta and then falls asleep quickly. She's always so hungry and so tired now, though it got better with the vampire blood. She wakes when someone sits down on her bed. It's dark. She blinks. Oh, right. The warm stone touches her shoulder. She yawns. "Oh, you're back."

He sighs. "Yeah. Sorry I ran. It wasn't about you."

"He was here," she remarks. "Earlier today. And man, you really have to explain that guy  _ everything _ ."

He chuckles, rubbing his ear. "Yeah. I don't know, I'll figure it out. I mean, I'll have to, whether I want it or not."

"You'll figure it out," she agrees. "And you don't have to become best friends with him at all, just clear the air a little."

He shrugs. "Somehow, yeah. And… I'm sorry, I'm sure you didn't want that reaction from me, about the pregnancy. You must have hoped I would be happier about it."

She sighs. "I don't know. There's no right way to feel about this. I didn't expect you to cheer for something that was really bad for my health."

He takes her hand and rubs it. "You smell better, by the way. Less dead, more vampire. I- I can't smell the baby, I think."

"Maybe that's part of the vampire smell," she suggests. "Look, I thought about what you said, that you can't really do this, and- it's okay. I still want to have it. You're enough as you are. Just love me, and support me. That's all I need."

He smiles, golden streaks flashing in the dark. "Always. I will try to look forward to it, then."

She snorts, placing his hand on her rounded belly. "Oh, yes. I also look forward to when this is over."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The references to Lara Croft and Resident Evil are anachronistic but finding something else would have taken too long and not have been worth it. Also, I kind of left out Clint (not sure about him yet).


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is less fun.

“Bruce, I- He’s not waking up.”

“Hm? Oh, sorry. Who?”

“Steve. I went over, just wanted to check because he has been asleep for so long, and- I think he’s not waking up anymore. Could you just take a look?”

“That sounds  _ bad. _ ”

She hears scrambling and a door falling shut and then she must have nodded off again because the next thing she hears is “Nat. Nat!”   
She pries her eyes open. Bruce is standing next to her bed, looking panicked. “Nat, I need the drip. And the bed. Quickly. Sorry.”

She blinks, slipping her feet out from under the blanket. Cold outside. “What’s going on?”

“He has sepsis, probably,” Bruce replies briefly, pulling the needle from her arm. “Sharon, get Sam, and Bobbi, tell her we need to do a white blood cell count, obtain blood cultures- sorry, Nat, you really need to get up.”

She has no idea what’s going on but Steve, who Bruce drags in on the stretcher, really looks bad and Sharon, before she disappears, looks very pale, so Natasha pushes herself up, even though her heart starts drumming. “Put something on it so it doesn’t bleed too much,” Bruce orders. “You’ll find something. Could you- no, just get out of the way.”

Oh, this is bad. She moves slowly to the cabinet with the bandages, holding onto things in order not to fall over. Bruce starts dragging machines towards the stretcher, one of them the ventilator. “What does that mean, sepsis?”

“Inflammation,” Bruce replies briefly, changing the needle on the IV drip. “Immune system goes into overdrive, then stops. Leads to organ failure, leads to death.”

She takes one of the bandages, presses it to her arm. She’s feeling dizzy. Shouldn’t have gotten up so fast. “Can I help?”

“You stay where you are,” Bruce rejects, pressing two fingers to Steve’s neck and checking his watch. “He has a fever, he’s breathing hard, his heart rate is up- did he seem confused?”

“Well, yeah,” Natasha replies, gripping the other table for stability. “Of course.”

Bruce gnaws on his lip. “Shit. It’s probably the lungs. Where’s the sphygmomanometer?”

She’s about to ask him what the fuck that is when James rushes in. “Are you okay? You’re bleeding.”

Of course he smelled that. “She’s okay, he’s dying,” Bruce returns. “Oh, there it is.”

Her head tumbles off her shoulders just then, or that’s what it feels like, but James catches her before she drops like a stone, narrowly avoiding the edge of the table. “Take her away, give her fluids and food,” Bruce’s voice says. “I can’t right now. Oh, did she hit her head?”

“She’s fine, just weak,” James replies, cradling her head. “Can I do anything for him?”

“If you have no idea, just get out,” Bruce returns. “God, I should have monitored him better.”

Someone else comes rushing in. She blinks until Bobbi’s frame slowly sharpens. “Fuck. Did you take blood already?”

“Blood pressure is low,” Bruce reports. “Help me move him to the bed first. One, two-”

“Are you okay?” James asks, caressing her cheek.

She blinks, still dizzy. “Think so.”

“I’ll take you upstairs,” James suggests. “Is it okay if I carry you?”

She nods quietly. Bruce and Bobbi have moved the body, Bobbi has a syringe- James picks her up. Sam comes through the door. “How bad is it?”

“Very bad,” Bruce states. “I think it’s the lungs, pneumonia, his breathing-”

She’s out of the door by then. All of this is surreal. James is moving slowly, carefully. “Is he really dying?” she whispers.

“I don’t know,” James replies, shifting her head so it rests against his shoulder. “But he smells really sick.”

* * *

James puts her on the couch in the common area and the others slowly join there. She eats cornflakes and an apple and some sausages, despite not having any appetite. Sharon's crying quietly, Pepper stroking over her hair while Fury asks her questions about the vampire fledglings from their last patrol. Natasha dozes off again, James right arm around her. Tony went downstairs a while ago, trying to help, but came up empty-handed. Clint's staring into empty air.

It's tense and it takes hours. Natasha eats and drinks mechanically, like breathing, just her body keeping itself alive. "I thought he was getting better," Sharon whispers to herself.

"Rumors spread," James remarks to Fury. "Even if vampires don't necessarily like each other, there's still a sense of belonging. Schmidt will take advantage of that and declare war on specific cities or regions. All the vampires, young or not, sanctioned or not, know they can go there and bite and kill as many people as they want, without penalty, and they will. He did it in Moscow, he did it around Sarajevo and he tried it in Northern France."

"So there will be more," Fury states. "A steady flow of vampires into Prague."

Tony snorts. "Well, isn't that just what we need."

"But did he really declare war on us?" Pepper asks. "Is that what you heard?"

"I didn't hear anything," James replies bluntly. "If he sent me a message, I made sure not to receive it. But that's probably what he did, keep you busy and wear you down while he gathers black cloaks for the final strike."

Fury frowns, which is probably the height of his facial expressions. "Rumlow won't clean them up anymore?"

"It's an unspoken deal," James states. "They help take the city, they get to live. If you call this living."

Someone's coming up the stairs. Sharon spins quickly. "Is it- how is it- is he-"

"Not good," Bruce admits quietly, wiping his glasses on his shirt. "I'm afraid we're going to have to make a decision."

"What decision?" Fury asks.

Bobbi sits down heavily. "He's in very bad shape. We gave him antibiotics and fluids, put him on ventilation and tried to drain fluid from his lungs but- I'm afraid it's too late."

"We also gave him a blood transfusion, and vampire blood as well," Bruce adds. "200ml, what we gave Nat. But it's just not enough."

"What's the choice then?" Tony asks. "Turning him into a vampire?"

James' left fist contracts, metal clacking. "I don't want to bite him."

"We could give him a lot more vampire blood," Bruce explains. "His blood pressure is very low so he could easily take a few liters. Of course we have no idea what will happen, but I would say we try it. Bobbi disagrees."

Bobbi sighs, wringing her hands. "I just don't think we can save him. He's so weak already. Either it kills him or does nothing to stop him from dying, or it turns him into something completely unknown to us. And that's going to be a lot harder than losing him now."

"We three can't make that decision," Bruce remarks. "And so we thought… you two are the closest to family he has."

"Me?" James replies incredulously. "Sorry but I don't even remember anything about him. I can't decide over his life."

"Killing people is also deciding over their life," Clint remarks.

James hisses. "I don't kill people, I kill vampires. Most of the time."

Sharon groans, rubbing her swollen eyes. "I should have checked on him earlier. If we found him earlier-"

"We haven't been able to identify what he's infected with," Bobbi explains. "So even starting earlier might have been useless. And we should have all monitored him, that's not your responsibility, but there was just so much going on."

"We really don't know what will happen when we try the treatment, Bobbi is right," Bruce says. "Natasha can correct me but I don't think anyone ever got injected with so much vampire blood."

She shakes her head weakly. Somehow, she feels like this is all her fault. "If you give him the vampire blood," James asks, "would you still have enough for Natalia?"

Tony snorts. "Oh, don't worry about that. We could pump both of them full of it and still have leftovers."

Sharon's chewing on her nails. "So it's my decision."

"Sorry," Bruce replies. "I think we should, Bobbi thinks we shouldn't and Sam said you should decide."

"We're not sure this won't turn him into a vampire, right?" Clint questions. "Or some other monster. What do we do then? Hope we can reason with him? Kill him?"

"I can do that," James offers quietly. "If it comes to that. I wouldn't want to place that burden on any of you."

"James," Natasha interrupts, alarmed. "Don't do that."

"Maybe this doesn't make sense but-" Sharon sighs. "I can't believe he got all this way here, the crash, the ice, the- just to die now? There has to be a way."

"I thought we were going to give him a lot of vampire blood anyway, initially?" Tony adds. "What changed?"

"Natasha and I had something of a plan," Bruce admits. "She told me about experiments with vampire blood that I didn't know about, that went horribly wrong, and- if it had gone wrong, we would have taken him out and told you it just didn't work. Spare you the pain."

"You're all a bunch of self-sacrificial idiots," Fury hisses. "Why didn't you tell me about this?"

"It was Alexei," Natasha whispers. "Alexei went farther than anyone else, than anyone ever should, and- I burned the evidence, I killed him, I made sure nobody would ever find out and get the same ideas."

"Oh, you really killed him yourself?" Tony questions. "So you're even worse than what they say."

"He was building an army of mindless drones," Natasha hisses. "He was going absolutely insane. I couldn't make him listen anymore. So yes, I cut off his head, and then the fledglings tore him apart, covering it up. And I'd do it again."

"Where are the mindless drones coming from?" Fury asks calmly.

Natasha sighs, staring at the ceiling. "When you- when you inject dead people with vampire blood, they get up and move again. But they'll only do what you tell them. Whatever you tell them."

"Oh, like zombies," Tony remarks.

"Like brain dead," Bruce corrects him.

Natasha snorts. "Well, we had a lot of bodies. And enough vampire blood. And Alexei had enough desperation and broken morals to- it was the only way to stop him."

"So you had no problem tearing your boyfriend's head off," Clint remarks bitterly. "And now you think you can have a  _ baby _ ?"

"That's not fair, Clint," Pepper admonishes. "I'm sure that wasn't easy for her."

It was too easy, though. That's the problem. "Hey, plenty of people who shouldn't have kids have them anyway," Tony interjects. "Like my dad. Or yours. If she thinks she can do it…"

"Guys," Fury interrupts. "There's someone literally dying in our basement, so get to the point."

"Is that the worst that could happen?" Sharon asks. "That he turns into a mindless drone?"

"He could turn into a vampire," Bobbi replies. "Or something like that. He could try to kill us."

"But maybe even that wouldn't be so bad?" Sharon insists. "Maybe it's from seeing Natasha's friend, or maybe I'm just hopelessly naive but- I just can't imagine Steve being anything other than Steve."

"I wasn't always like this," James mutters, tracing down Natasha's arm to the wound from the needle. "I don't remember much of the early years. It took decades until I had any semblance of control."

"Okay, but she's optimistic and she wants to try?" Tony asks. "Is that right, Sharon?"

Sharon bites her lips, swollen glassy eyes. "I- I can't give him up."

Bobbi sighs, slapping her hands on her thighs, straightening. "Then- I guess we'll just restrain him and try. Hope for the best."

"Should I come with you?" James asks.

"We'll have to prepare first," Bruce replies. "Wait here until we'll get you."

Sharon presses her face into her hands while they disappear down the stairs again. "Fuck."

"It's going to be alright," Pepper mutters, hugging her. "Either way."

"You're remarkably calm, for just having found out she beheaded her last boyfriend," Tony remarks.

"I killed the fledglings," James admits. "They told me they found him already dead. Nobody else knows. I assumed she had her reasons."

"So did I," Fury admits. "Or I would not have accepted her here."

"Well, you definitely earned your nickname," Tony decides. "And I guess turning him into a martyr was better than everyone finding out even he was losing his mind."

"Today is really great," Clint mutters. "We're gonna get overrun by vampires, we're doing crazy experiments with people who can't say no, and also Tasha personally murdered the biggest icon in the fight against vampires. Isn't that great."

* * *

James has to go down eventually and from there on, it's even more of a nail biter but somehow, Natasha still manages to eat another bowl of cornflakes and to fall asleep. She should probably get another dose of vampire blood but she doesn't want to ask. Somehow, this is her fault. If she hadn't taken up all of their attention, they might have had more time for Steve-

She wakes up because someone’s moving. God, she must have slept forever. The lights are off and the shutters are closed. “Oh, you’re awake?” Pepper’s voice asks.

Natasha stirs. “Uh, I guess. What’s- anything new?”

“No,” Pepper replies. “We thought we’d go downstairs and check. Do you want to join?”

Natasha groans. She really should get up. “Yeah, just wait a second.”

“Just gonna throw in a quick look,” Sharon states nervously. “I don’t wanna disturb, or endanger anyone-”

She doesn’t want to know, and simultaneously has to find out. “Oh, I’ll help you up,” Pepper offers, coming closer. Natasha’s eyes are getting used to the dark. “There. Should I lend you an arm?”

“Thanks,” Natasha mutters, grunting as she pulls herself to her feet. “Oh fuck.”

“Maybe Bobbi should take a look at you later,” Pepper suggests, steadying her. “Take it slow.”

They make it down the stairs, Sharon ahead and turning around nervously because they’re so slow. But then they’re down there and Natasha leans against a wall while Pepper takes a deep breath and cracks the door open, Sharon right behind her, biting her nails. There’s voices inside but Natasha can’t really see or hear, so she just leans there, eyes closed. She can hear her heartbeat in her ears. Oh, maybe she should sit down. “Oh, hey,” Bobbi’s voice says. “Just wait, I’ll be out in a second.”

The door closes. “Was that…” Sharon starts.

“Yeah, right?” Pepper remarks. “Weird.”

Natasha pries her eyes open. “What?”

“It looks like-”

The door opens again. “Sorry, we were too busy and forgot we should update you," Bobbi says. "He's stable but not waking up."

"But it looked like he-" Pepper starts.

Bobbi giggles. "Oh yeah, he's super jacked now. Sorry, I shouldn't laugh, he's not out of the woods yet- but I'm just exhausted and that was super weird."

"But what about the inflammation?" Sharon asks, worrying away at her lip. "The lungs? Is that better?"

"Slowly," Bobbi replies. "But his lactate went down and the fever as well, blood pressure is normalizing- basically, the symptoms subsiding. And his muscles are growing huge, which is unexpected, but whatever."

"And he hasn't attacked anyone?" Pepper asks. "Or, you know, grown fangs or anything?"

"Not yet," Bobbi admits. "I reserve judgment until he wakes up. And you should be prepared, even if he doesn't try to hurt anyone- he's probably not going to be the same. Physically, mentally, personality-wise."

"You think it was- right?" Sharon questions. "Trying it?"

"Let's say it doesn't look too bad," Bobbi admits. "But the jury's still out. And if you hadn't tried, you'd beat yourself up about that, too."

"Should we leave you to it, then?" Pepper asks. "Let you go back to work?"

"We're still trying to identify the microbes causing the infection," Bobbi agrees. "Less urgent now, but still. Uh, Natasha, your friend is still in there, I hope it's okay if we borrow him a little longer."

She nods. Not that she likes this, James thinking it doesn't matter if he kills another person, that it's less bad because he's already a monster- he's not a monster. But she needs Bobbi, Sam and Bruce to be safe and James can keep them safe.

"Well, Nat, you should keep eating and drinking, even more now without the IV," Bobbi recommends. "And then we'll do your check-up later, if that's okay."

"We'll look after her," Pepper assures her. "So you can focus on Steve."

"Thank you." Bobbi grins. "I'll let you know when he grows an eight-pack."

* * *

Once again, she eats and drinks, and then she's tired again. This time, she uses the opportunity to sleep in her own bed again. It smells like James, the cold, less human one, the old book. It's been a while.

She wakes up countless hours later, and it's again dark outside. Normally, somebody would be out on patrol. She's not so sure now. But she feels- okay. Someone, either Pepper or Sharon, probably Pepper, left a sandwich on her nightstand while she was sleeping, plus a glass of water. Natasha's hungry. She swallows the sandwich and downs the water, feeling her heartbeat in her throat. It could be wrong but she thinks the baby's moving, though it's not kicking as hard as that one time.

She decides to go downstairs, where there turns out to be no one, then goes down to the basement, slowly cracking the door open and peeking in. Bruce is looking through the microscope, Bobbi is surveying the choice of drugs or antibiotics or whatever, Sam is just sitting there, arm splayed across a table, dozing. All of them look very tired. James smiles at her, standing a bit away from the patient. She slips in, closing the door behind her. "Is it okay if I stay here?"

"Hm?" Bruce looks up and boy, those circles under his eyes. "Oh, yeah, sure. Just stay over there."

She takes a chair and sits down next to James. The guy- Steve, he's nothing like before, now he's broad and muscled and- he doesn't look real, to be honest. There are black straps all over him, keeping him down on the bed. He doesn't move, though she can see his chest heaving and lowering. His face isn't swollen and red anymore, just- normal. His eyes are closed. "Do you think he's better?" she asks quietly.

"I think he's going to make it," James states, staring at the blonde man strapped to the bed. "But he smells nothing like anything I've ever smelled before."

That could be good or bad. She stares some more. He's really- he looks less like a man and more like a statue. "I really hope you don't have to kill him."

"I don't want to kill him," James admits. "Maybe I've been staring at his face for too long but- I don't remember him but I know that face. And I- I feel a certain way about him, even if I don't remember him. Like I have to protect him."

She smiles. "That's sweet."

He snorts. "Well, we'll see. Did you get some sleep?"

"A lot," she returns, brushing her fingers through her hair. "And I ate a lot and drank a lot. And now- now I just want to sit here and do nothing."

"Mhm." He shakes his head, still staring at the comatose body. "That's fine by me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I haven't yet written anything after this, so if there's no chapter next week, that's why. I'll still try to get one out, though.


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your patience! Here's the new one. I hope the same thing doesn't happen next week...

"There you go," Bobbi remarks, pulling the needle from Natasha's arm. "It should get better now. Your friend should watch over you, just in case."

"You don't need him down there anymore?" Natasha asks, watching her stick a little band aid on.

"Tony's down there, in the armor suit," Bobbi replies. "Who knows when that guy will wake up. If he does at all. Don't tell Sharon I said that."

"You think he won't?" Natasha questions, sinking onto her pillow.

Bobbi sighs, brushing her hair to the other side. "I don't know. Physical healing is one thing but his brain… the longer he doesn't wake up, the likelier it becomes he'll just stay in a vegetative state forever."

“Forever?” Natasha repeats. “Oh. I thought he was… better.”

“I just have no idea,” Bobbi returns, packing up the medical kit. “Really. And I need to go to bed now before I collapse. Just wait and see, I can’t give you more than that.”

James is waiting just outside, nose wrinkled. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah, should be okay,” Bobbi replies, brushing past him. “Look after her. I’m going the fuck to bed now.”

He looks after her with some confusion, then peeks in. She smiles at him, still tired. “Close the door?”

He does, slowly. “I don’t like it when you smell of vampire.”

She snorts. “Tough shit. Come here.”

He smirks, sitting down at her bedside. “Guess that’s why there are so many lone vampires. Avoid the stink.”

She rolls her eyes, turning on her side. “Wish there were more, they’re easier to kill. You think Steve’s going to wake up?”

“I don’t know,” he replies, running his left metal hand over her hip. “Why are you asking me?”

“You seem…” She struggles for words. “Emotionally involved.”

“Do I,” he remarks with amusement. “I don’t know. I have a feeling he’s going to be fine. Don’t ask me why, though.”

She sighs, burying her face in her forearm. “Mhm. Maybe.”

“Just sleep,” James encourages. “Take care of yourself. I’m much more emotionally involved there.”

Sap. She rolls her eyes and drops back on her back. “I sure hope so.”

* * *

She wakes up after what feels like a very long time. She sleeps so much these days, nothing but sleeping and eating and hoping it is over soon. James is sitting in the chair in the corner, eyes closed. He looks positively dead, not even a heaving chest, no small movement. She shudders slightly. Maybe a statue. Something inhuman.

Beautiful, though.

Well, her feelings are a mess. She feels lonely even though she's not, hungry no matter how much she eats, always exhausted regardless of sleep. And she's going through it alone, everyone else watching from the sidelines, at best giving advice, but that doesn't change the fundamental fact that this is something happening to her, inside of her. Her against the world that's not so slowly eating her up.

God, she's probably just hungry, the drain pushing her towards melancholy. Who knows how long she slept. She needs to focus and keep it together, commiserating is not going to help. She stares at James' sleeping figure and still can't help the feeling that she lost something. "James?"

His eyes twitch behind closed lids, somehow quite scary. She holds her breath. That seems to be what alerts him, flashing white eyes. She crawls under the blanket, hiding. "Could you get me something to eat? I don't want to get up."

He blinks slowly, fingers with the murderous claws twitching. She really doesn't want to get up, she's weak and fragile and stretched to her physical limits. But if he doesn't react to her words, she's helpless. All she can do is plead with him and hope for the best. The silence feels endless. "What do you want?" he asks slowly.

"Anything," she replies quickly, quietly. "Really."

He can't handle _anything_ , she can see it clearly on his face. She's just waiting for him to snap. "I can't do that."

She knew it. But that doesn't mean she can do anything about it. "Please."

He groans, rubbing his face with both hands. The ugly grey claws scrape lightly over his white skin. "I haven't eaten in fifty years. I couldn't tell breakfast from dinner."

"Just try," she pleads. "I can't- Please."

He drops his hands and looks at her and- she can see the break between them, the pity on his face, and- he just can't do it, he's going to drop her and she's going to be all alone with _this_ , this pressure, this _parasite_ -

"Okay," he says slowly. "I'll try."

She nods and clings to the blanket as he gets up and slips out.

* * *

He gets her cereal with milk as well as dry toast, and it's not that bad but she just can't shake the feeling. She eats quietly in her bed and he's watching her, increasingly unnerved, the tension is running between them faster and faster. He snaps first, forcefully unclasping his hands. "Are you sure it's okay?"

"Yes," she forces out, not looking up. "It's okay."

He gets up, wanders around, drags on his collar. Like he's walking right on her nerves. She doesn't dare breathe too loud. He sits down on the bed, staring ahead at the wall. Her hand shakes as the spoon scrapes against the cereal bowl. He notices. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” she repeats. “Just hungry.”

He feels differently. She couldn’t nail it down, couldn’t put her finger on it, but something about him is different and it fills her with a profound sense of loss. So profound she can’t keep her hand from shaking. Or maybe that’s actual exhaustion. She can’t tell what’s in her head and what’s her body anymore. “Sure I shouldn’t get the doctor?” he questions.

She shakes her head, biting her tongue. No need to make a drama out of it. They’ve all got other stuff on their plate. She’s not going to take up their attention again if it means someone else dies like Steve. The anxiety gives way to a quiet resolve and she reaches forward instinctively, grabbing his marbled hand in a vice-like grip. “James.”

He looks at her without understanding. His skin is as cold and hard as stone. She tries digging her fingertips in and barely succeeds. A shudder runs down her spine, together with cold satisfaction at being proven right. “Your hand is cold.”

He looks down at it, eyes narrowing, not confused like discovering something but almost angry like being caught. His skin is not warming up, not giving in, not adapting to her. So she was right, he’s going to drop her, he can’t do this-

There’s a knock at the door, even though she didn’t hear the stairs, and she has called to come in before thinking about it, giving James a hard look before ripping her hand back. The door opens slowly, Pepper peeking in. “Hey. Am I interrupting?”

“Not at all,” Natasha replies with complete composure. James is still staring at his hand. “Could you do me a favor?”

Pepper shifts inside. “Sure. Do you need something to eat?”

“Thanks, already got that,” Natasha states. “Could you just touch James’ hand real quick?”

Pepper eyes him. James looks up with alarm. “Oh. Uh, why?”

“Just do it, please,” Natasha insists. “Won’t take long.”

Pepper steps forward hesitantly. “Is that really-” James starts.

“James,” Natasha interrupts. “Please.”

His fangs dig into his lower lip as he reluctantly extends the right hand, staring down at the bowl in her lap instead of at Pepper, holding his breath. Natasha nods encouragingly at Pepper who inhales deeply, staring at the grey horn claws as her fingers slowly wrap around his palm. The shudder going down her shoulders is visible. “And?” Natasha prompts.

“I don’t know, it’s cold- oh.” Pepper goes silent. James’ shoulders rise slightly.

“What?” Natasha prods.

“I don’t know, his- his skin just gave in?” Pepper says. “Like it softened and- but you know that.”

James is still not looking at either of them. “Thank you,” Natasha replies. “Could you get me a coffee, please? That would be great.”

Pepper draws her hand back quickly, retreating towards the door. “Oh, yeah, sure. I’ll be right back.”

James winces slightly as the door falls shut. “Well,” Natasha remarks with some gusto, ripping the dry toast apart, not caring about the crumbs getting everywhere. “Guess that answers that.”

“Answers _what_ ,” James hisses. “Can we not do this?”

“Oh, I’m just supposed to let this go?” she snaps back. “Like everything’s the same and nothing’s happened?”

“Nothing _happened_ ,” he returns. “I didn’t have any control over it when it was you, and you knew that, and now I have no control over it when it is _her-_ ”

“So you’re just not attracted to me anymore?” she interrupts. “Is that it? And you don’t want to admit it because you promised to be different but you _aren’t_ -”

“I don’t know!” he shouts. “I just don’t fucking know. Just- I don’t know.”

“Don’t give me that,” she returns. “Like this is some small thing, like I’m overreacting-”

“You don’t even smell like yourself anymore.”

That knocks the breath out of her. “Oh.”

“I told you I couldn’t do _this_ ,” he says. “I didn’t want to- I’m really trying-”

“So Pepper smells better, is that it?” she interrupts. “Do you want to fuck her or eat her? Just so I know.”

“Can we _not-_ ” He groans, rubbing over his face. “Nat. Please. Don’t make me do this.”

“Make you do what?” she questions. “Tell me the truth? Leave me like you’ve wanted, like some stupid cliché, like I should have known-”

“I’m not going to _leave_ ,” he interrupts. “This is _hard_ , really hard, and- you’ve changed, and you can’t expect that not to change- I don’t know what you want from me but you can’t expect me to- I’m fucking trying but I don’t have control over-”

“Can you just finish one fucking sentence,” she hisses. “Just fucking tell me. Tell me that you’re more attracted to literally everyone other than me, that you just don’t want to leave me out of pity, because you don’t want to admit-”

“I don’t even remember her _name_ ,” he returns.

“It’s not about her!” she explodes. “You’re more into every other warm-blooded woman than me-”

“You smell like you’re turning,” he interrupts. “You smell exactly like a fledgling and now you’re mad because I don’t like that- what do you even care, you wanted the baby, you wanted to do what that takes, and now all you’re doing is getting paranoid that I might leave- what do you care about what I think about your smell? I thought you were doing that for yourself-”

“Oh yeah,” she remarks. “Now it’s all me, right? My fault that we slipped into this mess- but great that you admit you don’t like any of this, you didn’t want any part of this- I guess now that you don’t want to suck me dry anymore, you don’t want to sleep with me either-”

“What the fuck does _that_ matter right now,” he cuts her off. “Yeah, sure, if only I’d be more into your disgusting vampire smell, that would fix everything, that would keep you from dying-”

“Disgusting vampire smell?” she repeats. “Well, that’s rich, coming from you-”

There’s a loud knock on the door and it opens without further warning. Pepper peeks in. “Hey. Sorry. Just- thought you’d want to know.”

“What?” Natasha asks, somewhat embarrassed.

“Steve woke up.”

* * *

She makes it down the stairs somehow, out of spite. Steve’s still sitting on the bed, though the straps seem to be ripped. He looks awfully strong and utterly confused. Tony is still in the full metal suit but with the mask up. James moves into her line of sight immediately. “What’s going on?”

“Yeah, looks like he doesn’t remember absolutely anything,” Tony says. “Complete amnesia. At least that’s what he says.”

“Nothing?” James repeats. “Does he even know who he is?”

Natasha weasels around James to catch a look. “Remember me? Massively pregnant?”

Steve blinks at her slowly, clutching his giant hands. “...no? Sorry.”

“Let’s just get him a shirt that fits,” Tony remarks. “And… I don’t know.”

“Was he aggressive?” Pepper whispers. “Is it safe to be-”

“Pep, he can hear you,” Tony replies. “But yeah, I think he’s just really confused. You know, with the whole amnesia thing.”

“Just because of Nat,” Pepper insists. “You know, I think she should-”

Sharon comes rushing in, pushing her way through until she can see- “Oh my God, I thought you’d never wake up.”

Steve looks uncomfortable. “Sharon, he might not remember you,” Tony warns. “He hasn’t remembered anyone so far.”

Sharon’s eyes widen. “You- you don’t remember me?”

Steve blushes. “I- Should I?”

“You have no idea who I am?” Sharon questions incredulously.

Steve lowers his head slightly. “I’m sorry. Uh, did we- were we-”

Sharon blushes the most furious red Natasha’s ever seen. “No! No. Why would you- Oh my God.”

“Okay, I think we should get out,” Pepper announces. “Right now. You guys deal with this. Come, Natasha. Sharon.”

As always, determined initiative works and Pepper drags them outside, shutting the door behind them. Sharon sinks against the wall, breathing into her hands. “Oh my God. Did he- did he really just hit on me?”

“He’s just confused,” Pepper replies. “Natasha, are you okay?”

“Yeah, sure,” Natasha says. “Why?”

“I heard you screaming at your friend and-” Pepper sighs. “Are you okay? Is there anything I can do? The hand thing, I didn’t mean to-”

“Oh, it’s alright,” Natasha interrupts. “It’s not your fault. Don’t worry about it.”

Pepper chews on her bottom lip. “If there’s anything- you can tell me anything. We can work it out. You’re not alone.”

“It’s alright, really,” Natasha repeats. “Doesn’t matter now.”

Sharon drops her hands, sighing. "Sorry. Something I should know?"

Boy, does she not want to talk about it. "No, forget it. Not a big deal."

"I can't believe he would- he was with my grandma!" Sharon insists. "I mean, he probably doesn't remember that either but- urgh. That was weird."

"I don't think he meant it," Pepper assuages. "Just, if you were, I mean had, that would be really bad not to remember."

"Can we go somewhere where I can eat something?" Natasha asks. "I don't think I should stop."

* * *

"Sam's still on patrol," Sharon mutters, carding her hair to one side and then the other. "Jesus Christ. I can't do this _again_ -"

"Just let Tony handle it," Pepper suggests. "Doesn't really matter if Steve can't remember anything anyways. And Tony can totally be gentle if he wants to."

"Thanks for that information," Natasha mutters into her banana.

Sharon groans. "Jesus Christ. Why does everything have to be so complicated?"

"Tell me about it," Natasha replies. "And so fucking hard, too."

Fury comes down the stairs. "Oh, Romanoff. I was looking for you."

"Steve woke up," Pepper tells him. "But with amnesia."

"Later." He grabs a chair and turns it around. "You can't stay here if the city's about to be invaded by hordes of vampires. That's not safe."

"Yeah, cool," Natasha returns, at the end of her patience. "Is anywhere safe?"

"I made a few calls and there's a house outside the city," Fury explains. "We can get the necessary medical equipment there, and then we can get you and Morse there quietly in the daylight. That's safer than sitting around here."

"What about her friend?" Pepper asks.

"He stays here," Natasha returns. "Or what? There's gonna be black cloaks here soon and you don't want him?"

"He shouldn't stay here either," Fury says. "There's a chance he'll be turned against us and it's too much of a risk."

"Are you insane?" Sharon asks back. "Are we supposed to face the black cloaks _alone_?"

Fury raises an eyebrow. "At least the front line is clear."

"Nothing is clear," Sharon shoots back. "We gave Nat a heck of a lot of vampire blood, and then we gave Steve even more and- what are we even doing here? What is this? You seriously wanna tell me we're doing this to help people?"

"We're helping Natasha," Pepper replies. "Yes, it's going to have bad consequences for this city and probably for us but that's nobody's fault. And we can't really change it either."

"You should use him," Natasha insists. "Unless Schmidt shows up himself, it should be safe. And I don't think he will."

"This is getting insane," Sharon remarks. "I mean, what else would you have him do? Run away? Hide?"

"But he told Rumlow that he'd follow Natasha out of the city," Pepper reminds them. "So it's not good for him to be seen around town."

"Have him check entries into the city," Natasha suggests. "Then he can warn you before black cloaks show up. Like it or not, if you remove him from the equation, we all die."

Sharon rubs her eyes. "There's no way to evacuate the city. Just, none. So we better make sure this doesn't end badly for us."

"We can't tell him where you're going," Fury states. "We can't tell him anything that Schmidt could get out of him. I'd bet my eyepatch that if there's such a thing as a live half-vampire child, Schmidt will want it."

She's never even thought about that. "How do you want to get him to forget that?" Sharon asks. "Wanna pump him full of vampire blood like Steve?"

"He's already full of vampire blood," Pepper reminds her.

"I mean, we could fake your death," Fury ponders. "Or a miscarriage."

"Are you all fucking insane," Natasha returns. "Sure, that's going to end _well_."

Sharon sighs, leaning back. "Sorry. I'm in a complete tizzy."


	25. Chapter 25

"Are you sure?" Clint asks as she makes her bed. "I can come with you."

Natasha snorts, fluffing up the pillow she won't sleep on soon, or ever. "No thanks. Don't need you fighting with Bobbi every day."

"I'm serious," Clint insists, playing with an arrow at his belt.

"So am I," Natasha replies, holding her belly. "Nothing you can do. It's gonna be fine, don't worry."

Clint pulls a face, clearly disagreeing but biting his tongue. "I'll pray for you. Seriously."

He hasn't prayed since he fled the war, as far as she knows, so she smiles at him sadly. "Thank you. Really."

There's nothing more to say after that. The room's largely empty. Not like she ever had much personal possessions anyway. She looks around, weird floating feeling. It's true, she's in between, removed from the world of hunting but not yet in… she doesn't know yet. Motherhood? A strange thought. She hasn't really thought about what this is going to  _ be _ . If it's going to be at all.

Downstairs, everyone is waiting in the lobby, blinds pulled for James' sake. The bags are already in the car, as far as she knows. Pepper hugs her, a tear in the corner of her eye. “You’re going to be fine, Nat. We’re all going to be fine.”

Sharon hugs her next and by the time it’s Sam’s turn, Natasha herself is teary-eyed. She might just never see them again. “I’ll see you soon,” Sam mutters into her hair.

“I hope it’ll go well,” Bruce says. “Bobbi will look after you.”

“Oh, come on,” Tony says. “Like this would take you down. You, of all people.”

Clint is gritting his teeth, muscles of his jaw working. It looks aggressive but she knows he’s just trying not to show his emotions. “Stay strong. Don’t give up.”

“You’ll be back soon,” Fury says. “Can’t lose my best tracker.”

James is the last in line and she can’t really look at him, after the fight yesterday. It is what it is. As Bobbi said, the rest is between her and God, if that guy’s even out there somewhere. The only thing left to believe in is herself. James steps forward and kisses her forehead with his cold lips. It is what it is. She notices everyone else looking uncomfortable or looking away. “Good luck, Natalia. Good luck.”

That’s what it comes down to in the end, isn’t it? Sheer dumb luck. Life and death, happiness and misery, stability and societal collapse from a vampire epidemic. Nobody is ever really in control. Certainly not James and her. And she knows it's all downhill from here, whatever happens, James will always be a vampire, Schmidt will be out there until they kill him, she will always be on the run until she's dead or undead. It's all fleeting, unstoppable, out of control, and only getting worse. She smiles at him, thinking she might never see him again. "I'll be fine."

"Your stuff's in the truck," Bobbi remarks, staring at the claws against Natasha's red hair. "It's all ready to leave."

The silence is tense and uncomfortable. "We'll call you," Pepper hurries to say. "At least that much."

Natasha spots an unusually bulky figure in the background, hunching slightly, too heavy for his own liking. Looks like Steve's up. "Hey, you. I know you don't remember me but… You'll figure it out. I hope they take care of you."

"Sure will," Sharon mutters, blushing pink.

Natasha squeezes James' hand, still cold- well, that's just how it is, and it doesn't really matter. The baby kicks slightly and her mouth drops open but it's not that bad. She lets go, takes Bobbi's arm and lets herself be led outside.

It's really a small truck more than a car, plenty of space in the back, rusty but actually not in all that bad shape. Not like the Soviet car industry. Bobbi leads her to the passenger side.

"Morse?"

They both turn their heads. Fury is standing outside, beckoning. "Come over, I got something for you."

"Just a sec," Bobbi replies, helping Natasha up into the truck. "You okay?"

Natasha breathes heavily at the slight exertion, holding her belly. At least she didn't burn in the sunlight. "Yeah. It's fine."

"Just a second then, be right back." Bobbi walks to the back of the truck. Natasha closes her eyes, heart drumming in her ears. Oh, she's really not doing well. Stairs are hard, even when it's just one step. She hopes this is over soon. Little over a week now. Also, she hasn't been out in the daylight in what feels like years and it's awfully bright. Somebody opens the door at the back of the truck.

"Oh. Oh, I see."

"I think you're going to find that very useful."

"Sure thing. Where'd'ya get this beauty?"

"Had it for a while. Don't tell the others."

"Won't, boss."

"Well. Do your best."

The doors are slammed shut again. "Will do. Good luck with the vampires."

Bobbi comes around, climbing into the driver's seat. "What did he give you?" Natasha asks.

Bobbi grins, starting the car. "Oh, I'll tell you sometime later."

* * *

They drive for about an hour and a half, or maybe two. It's really been forever that Natasha was outside the city, in broad daylight no less. And she's so exhausted that she nods off several times, only to be rattled awake by a bump in the road.

It's quite deserted. The vampires may have hit the big cities the hardest but the countryside wasn't exactly spared. Most of all, people do not trust each other anymore and they avoid congregating, as if that would attract the monsters. In some ways, it does. Only about half of the fields are actually being farmed.

The house is half tucked away into a little forest, built out of broad wood planks, many gables. Bobbi tells her to wait, climbing out alone. Natasha leans forward, trying to get a better view. Not a person in sight, let alone another house. This is quite literally the end of the road.

However, before Bobbi reaches the house, a woman appears between the trees, rifle slung around her shoulder. She's rather tall, though not as tall as Bobbi, brown hair, and rather not up for a chat. Thick brown coat with what looks like fox fur around the neck. Bobbi raises her hands as she approaches her, though the woman shows no signs of reaching for a weapon.

The baby kicks hard and Natasha groans, slumping over, holding her belly for fear that it'll break. She wonders whether Tony meant that literally, with the baby breaking through her stomach and crawling out, or just- the tight skin holds for now and that’s all she’s going to think about.

The two women are still exchanging tense words. Natasha notices their host has binoculars around her neck, as if she just came back from the hunt. Animal hunt. Probably the only way to get food around here. Thinking about meat makes-

The baby kicks again, this time longer, even harder, and Natasha gasps and bends over, slumping onto the dashboard, moaning in pain as her belly's pushed out from inside repeatedly. She can almost  _ feel  _ the shape. The car door is being opened. "Hey, are you okay? Come on, let's get you inside so you can lay down."

She can't breathe. "Is she okay?" the other voice asks.

"Under the given circumstances," Bobbi replies, unfastening her seatbelt and reaching around. "But I'm gonna need a hand."

* * *

Natasha can't remember or imagine how they got from the car to her lying on a couch, under a blanket, with a hot bowl of soup. The kicking has subsided for now but she still feels the soreness from the last time.

The house is quite dark inside with all the wood and so few windows. There are antlers on the walls, stuffed pheasants, at least one set of vampire fangs. Trophies. A shudder goes down her spine, despite the warm blanket and the chimney fire. The cold winter wind rattles the tiny windows, cuts around the edges, trying to claw its way in. The room is lit solely with candles, probably no electricity in the house.

“Hey.”

The brown-haired woman is sitting behind a big wooden table, face bright against the wooden wall, candle light dancing over her skin. There’s meat on the table, cooked meat. Natasha’s belly contracts almost painfully. Bobbi is nowhere to be seen.

“You’re Russian, aren’t you,” the woman remarks.

Natasha snorts, staring at the ceiling that’s so dark she can’t really see it. “Is that the first thing you ask?”

The woman shrugs, opening a flask of liquor with a biting smell escaping immediately. “I don’t mind.”

She sounds Czech which means she most likely speaks Russian but, like Pepper, clearly does not want to. “Where’s Bobbi?”

“Toilet’s outside,” the woman replies briefly, taking a sip from the flask. “You hungry?”

The smell of the meat is overwhelming, to a degree it shouldn’t be. Natasha tucks the blanket up to her chin. “Yeah.”

The woman makes her way out from behind the table, bumping into it or the bench several times. The rifle is hanging on the wall behind the door, as Natasha notices. The vampire fangs are right over the fireplace. “You killed a vampire?”

The woman nods, grabbing the plate with the meat and sitting down on the couch table, also made of heavy wood, holding out the plate. “You mind?”

The meat is cooked but it still smells of blood. Natasha can’t resist grabbing a piece with her bare hands and stuffing it in her mouth, shaking her head. She’s a hunter. She’s always been a hunter. She- She needs to devour all of this bloody meat right now.

The woman merely raises an eyebrow as Natasha rips the plate from her hands and starts wolfing it down, barely taking the time to chew, tasting the flesh, the blood, the dead life of it. She inhales it so fast that she gags, coughs, spits it out and shoves it in her mouth again, unable to stop. When she’s done, the plate entirely empty, fingers greasy and dirty, she leans back, exhausted. The woman is still watching her quietly. Natasha clears her throat, uncomfortable. “Do you live here alone?”

The woman shrugs, not moving otherwise. “Less people to worry about.”

She feels that. “I’m Natasha.”

“Maria,” the woman replies. “Maria Kopecká.”

The door opens, cold rush of air, then closes quickly behind Bobbi who’s stamping her feet to get rid of the mud. “Phew. Gotta say, taking a dump outside in the dark is quite the adrenaline boost.”

The woman- Maria gets up and pours water from a bucket into a big bowl. “Here. To wash your hands.”

“Thanks.” Bobbi rolls her sleeves up, looking towards Natasha. “Hey. Feeling better?”

She must have grease around her mouth, probably, with how fast she was devouring the meat. Embarrassing. She wipes it with the back of her hand quickly, which is not exactly clean either. “Mhm. Yeah.”

Bobbi dips her hands in the water, then grabs the bar of soap. “I see you already got something to eat.”

Maria makes her way around to the back of the hut, opening a cupboard. “She’s quite hungry. I’ll open a can.”

Her stomach growls at the mention of more food. “She needs to eat a lot,” Bobbi remarks. drying her hands off. “I hope you’re stocked.”

Maria huffs, pulling a can opener from a drawer. “Always.”

Bobbi turns, crossing her arms. “So, how do you know Fury, if I may ask?”

The can opener cuts through the metal deftly. “Work,” Maria replies. “Before.”

“Oh, I see.” Bobbi’s eyes drift to the vampire fangs over the fireplace, placed prominently. “Do lots of vampires come by here?”

“Few,” Maria states, grabbing a pot and pouring the content of the can into it. “Last one I shot was two months ago.”

“Huh.” Bobbi walks over to the couch, making space for her to narrowly sit, reaching for Natasha’s wrist. “Let me take your pulse.”

It feels rather quick but she’ll let Bobbi decide. Maria hangs the pot over the fireplace. It smells of sour tomatoes. The fiery light accentuates the harsh lines of her face. Bobbi checks her watch. "Mhm. Better give you a dose. Have you tried getting up?"

Her fingers are really greasy. "No."

"How did you come to be with that vampire thing?" Maria asks, peering out through the window.

Well, that. "I'm going to inject another dose," Bobbi announces, letting go of her wrist and getting up.

Natasha clears her throat, tucking the greasy hands under the blanket. "Just… just how anyone else comes to be with child."

Maria turns around, seeming unconvinced. "Really."

It would be great if she could disappear into the couch never to be seen again. "Gimme your arm, darling," Bobbi asks, sitting down on the couch table.

"And what's that?" Maria asks, crossing her arms.

"Vampire blood," Bobbi replies, looking for a vein. "Not from that guy. It helps with cell regeneration, healing and strength and… I really don't know how it works, but it works."

"You're a weird bunch," Maria remarks, crouching down in front of the fireplace and stirring the pot.

Natasha gets the empty feeling in her arm as the vampire blood floods in. "Do we really have everything here? No offense, but Fury said it would have more… equipment."

Maria straightens, walking across the room and pulling open a floor hatch Natasha hadn't noticed. "Oh, don't worry, it's all downstairs."

"Electricity, too?" Bobbi asks.

"There's a generator outside," Maria explains, peering down. "I don't run it usually because it might attract vampires, but it should work."

"Let's hope it does," Bobbi says. "Not that I haven't worked under candlelight but it'd be better if I didn't have to."

"It'll work," Maria states.

Bobbi sighs. "Okay. So, Nat, I… we haven't talked about this yet but I would like to induce early."

Natasha is too tired for this. "What does that mean?"

"Induce birth," Bobbi adds. "Basically, you take a pill and then the contractions start. I'd check again that the baby is big enough but I think it already is."

"Why, though?" Natasha asks. "Why not wait?"

"Every day of pregnancy brings more risk," Bobbi replies. "And the birth will be easier if the baby is not that big yet, so less complications. And we might just not have the time, depending on whatever else happens."

"And you're sure that's not bad for the baby?" Natasha questions.

Bobbi snorts. "Trust me, that thing has the most solid vitals I've ever seen."

"I wouldn't worry about that  _ thing _ ," Maria interjects, holding the hatch open. "So, do you want to go down or can I close it?"

"I'll check it out," Bobbi replies, standing. "Natasha, just stay here for now."

Maria holds the hatch open dutifully and hands her a candle. "You need my help down there?"

"Should be fine," Bobbi replies, carefully climbing down the creaking wood. "Is that- oh."

"The hatch opens from inside," Maria states and closes it promptly.

The food over the fireplace smells quite strongly, tomato and something like pasta. Maria crosses over and stirs it again. "So. You fucked a vampire."

When Natasha doesn't reply immediately, Maria adds: "Or did a vampire fuck you?"

Natasha sighs. Jesus Christ. Why is all of this so complicated? "No, no, I… I fucked a vampire."

"Huh." Maria pulls her sleeves over her hands and lifts the pot off the fire. "Why?"

"I liked him," Natasha replies, immediately worrying about the past tense that came out so naturally. Why does it matter to her so much? Maybe she's never going to see him again, and… she's already lost so much, and there's nothing he can do to really change her situation, and she's doing this for herself anyway, they're not going to be a  _ family _ \- but she hasn't worried about dying since she got to know him, knew he wouldn't let anything happen to her- at least until she turned out pregnant. Does she really love the monster because he's strong enough to protect her?

Maria is watching her attentively, not clear whether she said anything or not. Natasha rubs her eyes demonstratively. "Sorry. I'm very tired."

"You can sleep on the couch," Maria states. "I usually sleep on the bench. Or on the floor."

Natasha nods, closing her eyes and crawling further under the blanket until she's lying almost flat, pretending to be already out. Bobbi is doing something downstairs, though it's very hard to hear, and Maria starts eating out of the pot, by the sound of it. The wind is very loud once it's silent.

After some time, the hatch creaks open and Bobbi climbs up again. "Good equipment, I gotta say."

She walks right past Natasha, even stops to look. Maria is quiet. "I thought that was for her."

"She wanted to sleep."

"Oh well. Let's not let it go to waste, then."

Bobbi finally walks away and Natasha can breathe normally again. The floor creaks, and the bench creaks. Everything in this house is dead and alive at the same time.

"So, all this stuff… is that from when you worked with Fury? It's not exactly new."

"Yes."

"Huh. So you're a doctor?"

"No."

"There was someone else?"

"Not… everyone is still here."

"Oh, I see. Emigration or vampires?"

"Both."

"I actually immigrated pre-vampires. Because everyone else emigrated."

Maria laughs, barely distinguishable from the rattling wind. "Bad choice, if you ask me."

"Oh, well. It's certainly very folksy, with the antlers and all."

"Rusty beyond repair."

"You're quite pessimistic. I thought there was quite a spirit of… I mean, after the stagnation of the 70s and 80s, and with Havel… of course, that was before the vampires."

"I think you're the one with the rosy eyes."

"The rosy glasses, yeah! It's probably nostalgia on my part, really."

"Nostalgia is fair. We had barely gotten back to where we were… and now this, of course. Best to resign to it."

"You certainly seem to have adapted to it. In your own way."

Maria snorts. "I'm not going to run around trying to stop something that cannot be stopped, fix something that cannot be fixed. Get my hopes up and have them crushed."

"That's absolutely fine. I mean, you're still helping us."

"Ah, well. I owe someone a favor."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kopecká is Czech for "living by a hill", so do the math.  
> I've decided to put Clint's backstory in the Yugoslavian war but I don't have much more yet.


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a really, really tough one. Trigger warnings in the end notes.

She sleeps most of the time and when she doesn't, she eats raw amounts of increasingly bloody meat. Or maybe she can just tell better, keener sense of smell, the damp wood, smoking fire, the lifeless meat, the pines- She only gets up to pee, once a day at best, everything out of whack, draining  _ somewhere _ , and it's not clear how long this can go, where she can keep getting the energy for this, how close she is to-

Bobbi monitors her closely. The baby starts kicking so hard Natasha gets stretch marks across her whole belly, not towards the edges but right over her belly button, and the next time the skin starts tearing, drops of blood squeezed out, delicious fresh blood, her own- This can't go on. She's afraid every waking hour that the baby will break through. It's visceral and inevitable, the final worsening of the symptoms of a fatal disease. Her body is not built for this. She's merely the instrument, the host, dispensable. The ruined carcass her monster baby will crawl out of into a world full of vampires, full of death, full of despair. And then it will either have horrible things done to it or do horrible things itself.

She hears them talk about her, too weak to respond. Maria is not one to mince words. "Why would you fuck a vampire, though? I mean, seriously."

"Yeah, no, I know. But I think she really… likes him."

"Well, that's stupid."

"I met him, though. And… I don't know, I don't fully trust him but- I don't think he's aware."

"He's a  _ vampire _ . One of the monsters you hunt. Don't tell me he's not  _ aware _ ."

"Biology, I guess. It's weird. But I think she'll see that sooner rather than later."

"Oh, let's hope so. It's sick."

"That's obvious. Let's just get her through it, and then we'll deal with that."

* * *

She can barely think. She wakes and everything is white. Voices. Noises. Is she- She's still lying down, just not on the couch. It's awfully bright, electric. She'd say she's dead if she did still believe in heaven and hell and an afterlife that doesn't involve fangs.

"Why don't you just cut it out?"

The other voice is closer. "Might, actually. Do you have, for stitches- yeah, thanks."

"Seriously. It'll kill her."

"She wanted to keep it."

"You know it's a vampire spawn."

"I promised her."

"Who cares. Save her the pain."

This is far beyond. "What?" she tries to croak out.

"Natasha," Bobbi's voice says. "It has teeth."

* * *

She can barely stay conscious. Her body has ossified, painfully, she can't even keep track of it. One long hard piece. She'll snap and break, be broken. Dry like leaves.

"The blood loss could seriously tip her over."

"Isn't that what you have the miracle cure for?"

"It might not be fast enough."

"Well, give it to her now then."

"Get the suitcase. Just in case."

Thumping steps.

"Natasha? Can you hear me?"

She tries but her bone cocoon cannot be moved. "Your blood pressure took a dive. I think there's damage to your kidney..."

* * *

She can barely breathe. The words hardly reach her. Her cocoon is thick and heavy, completely enveloping her, slowly crushing her within. It's quiet and stifling, background thumping, her rattling breath louder than anything.

“...make it…”

“...moving…”

“...too much!”

“...sedate…”

“...not going to risk…”

“...that…”

“...happening…”

* * *

The birth itself goes remarkably easily, as she is later told.

* * *

She wakes an eternity later, and everything is still awfully bright.

The walls are white, the ceiling is white, her bed is white. There are white machines all around. She’s on a drip, as she’s been forever now, her arm riddled with fresh scars like one of a drug addict. Maria is leaning against a white cupboard, arms crossed, face closed off.

Natasha sits up easily. “What-”

“Cesarean section,” Maria replies. “Barbara gave you a lot of the crazy juice. It’s already healed.”

Natasha blinks, then pulls up the gown. There’s a scar from left to right, horizontally, on her abdomen, crossed with a smaller vertical scar at the center, ending below her belly button. Her belly is not where it was before she got pregnant but it’s already receded, and she panics like something’s missing, like she forgot something, a bag or- “Barbara said if you can get up, you should get up,” Maria adds. “She’s upstairs.”

They’re in the basement, the cellar. The cellar is a lab, that’s why everything is white. Sterile. “Did I bleed?” Natasha asks.

“Not until Barbara cut you open,” Maria replies simply. “It was in the middle of the day. We had it all patched up until sundown.”

She swings her legs off the bed, feeling so much lighter. Moving is easy to a degree she hardly remembers. The air doesn’t even feel cold. The stretch to her belly is gone, leaving some flabbiness and a lot of freedom of movement. “So it’s all good?”

“Well,” Maria remarks, removing the needle. “Almost.”

Natasha blinks. She’s forgetting something. “The-”

“It’s alive,” Maria says, handing her a glass of water. “Well, I’m not sure that’s the right word.”

She drinks slowly, so used to being careful with the swallowing because coughing is so exhausting. But she's still alive. Despite the- everything. Despite all of this shit. "Can I see it?"

"If you really want." Maria shakes her head.

She must think Natasha's crazy, with the vampire, the baby, the- sick. Did they say that? It feels so visceral. Like it makes her  _ less  _ than human, all this shit, the- She suddenly doesn't want it anymore, any part of it. She's tired, tired of everything, where she ended up. She wants them not to look at her with disgust anymore. She wants it to end.

She finishes the glass, head empty. Maria always studies her like she's crazy and dumb and cannot be trusted. Then Natasha gets up mechanically, the first time in forever she doesn't need help. She feels stronger and empty at the same time. Was it really worth it? Becoming this shell of a human just to survive? Give up her humanity to be strong enough to take on the monsters? What kind of a fool would think birthing a monster would bring her back any part of herself that's already long dead and buried?

Doesn't matter now. There's a door on one wall, of course also white. She opens it herself, gripping the handle. The next room is dark and only has the creaky wooden staircase. She holds her hands out to grip the grained wood. Maria follows her slowly, quietly. The staircase has a steep climb yet it doesn't exhaust her at all. She pushes the hatch open.

Upstairs is lit by candles, wooden shutters closed. Bobbi is standing by the cupboards, turning when the hatch opens, bundle of blankets in her arms. "Oh. You're up."

Natasha doesn't really know what to say to that, inching closer. There's a plate with strips of meat on the counter, strong smell. Bobbi rocks the bundle gently. "Everything alright? Your belly looked good already, half-healed."

"Yes," Natasha replies, coming to a stop. "It's healed."

Pale skin peaks out of the bundle. Bobbi nods, grabbing a strip of meat and feeding it to- A wave of sickness comes over Natasha.

God. Why did she do this?

The- the thing swallows the meat quickly, she can hear it chew and slurp. She suddenly doesn't want anything to do with this anymore. She wants to turn around and run away, go back to fighting monsters, not- not  _ creating _ them, go back to being  _ herself _ , whoever that is, fight and kill-

Bobbi wipes her fingers on the blanket and turns slightly so Natasha can see the blank face, the fat smeared around its mouth, the teeth, almost fangs, the empty dark eyes- Clint was right, James was right, they were all right, how could she ever believe to bring something  _ good  _ into the world when she's becoming every day more like the monsters infesting it, when she's so obviously beyond repair or redemption, a broken shell of a human that just pretends to feel, to believe, to dream - "Do you want to hold it?"

She's staring at the blank child-like face of the abomination like into a mirror, the unmistakable proof of what she has turned into. She has blurred all the lines, lost everything she claimed to hold dear, drenched her ledger in red. There's no way back. The world is holding a mirror to her face, a mirror of her own flesh and blood, and for once, she cannot look away.

Bobbi steps closer, pressing the blanketed abomination into her arms, checking that she has a solid hold on it. "There. It's a girl."

It's a monster, unmistakable from the upper canines, the pale marbled skin, the dark soulless eyes. It doesn't even feel warm through the blanket. She stares at it, swallowing, and the thing stares back blankly. It dawns on her this thing will never be a child, it will never want anything from her, no affection, no care, no nurturing, all it wants is to  _ eat _ . How could she have been so wrong?

"It's quite heavy for an early birth," Bobbi remarks. "But that's not really surprising."

It's indeed heavy, plenty of dead weight. She has no doubt this thing would have kicked through her stomach if necessary. No concern for anything but its own survival. She swallows again, staring at the dark void behind those eyes. "Can I- give it back?"

"Sure." Bobbi has plucked it from her arms before she can reconsider. "You should still take it slow. The vampire blood seems to have worked well but we don't want to risk it."

The hatch is closed soundly. Maria doesn't seem particularly excited about any of this, shuffling over and dropping on the bench. The thing on Bobbi's arm opens its mouth, gaping hole, sharp teeth that seem a little too big for its mouth. Bobbi snorts softly, dropping another slice of meat down its throat. And just like that, Natasha's out of this whole thing. This is not her baby. This is not something she can take care of. She can't fix this. She's never going to have a relationship with this thing because this thing is never going to have a relationship with her. This is  _ not her baby _ .

"It's very hungry," Bobbi remarks, feeding it more. "I wonder how it will grow."

It doesn't matter. It's not a baby. It's something to recoil from, the blatant sign of her failure as a human. Maybe, if she pushes it away far enough, that counts for something, that makes her more human again. Turn off this path. It'll be a dreary march but maybe she'll get somewhere, because there is no staying here. She sees that now.

She lays down on the couch, her couch, and falls asleep with her heart thumping.

* * *

The thing eats, sleeps and stares into the void. It hasn't made a sound once. It breathes, though. Bobbi takes care of it good-naturedly because Natasha absolutely can't but it seems more professional than out of joy of having it. It's really not a joy. It is eerie, the dead baby, the soulless baby, the parasite. It may be out of her body but she's got the feeling it would suck the life out of her if it could. She can tell Maria hates it as well, though she never says it, but then again she never says much.

Bobbi says she has postpartum depression, without the usual fatigue, but she can't understand the crushing moral weight of having brought  _ this _ into the world. For God's sake, she fucked a  _ vampire _ . Even if it was James. It sickens her. What's so wrong with her that she couldn't see how wrong this all was? How could her moral compass break like this? Maybe it was Alexei, maybe that's what ruined her, maybe- she knows she's still not over it, even if she pretends to be, chopping the head off of the man she used to love, and now she loves a vampire whom she could never ever hurt- Fuck. She went wrong at so many intersections. Alexei, the careless way she acted in Saint Petersburg, coming here, giving up so much on herself that she's willing to inject vampire blood, growing so used to it it doesn't even disgust her anymore. No wonder she fucked a vampire. She's become everything she murdered Alexei for, and so much worse. Thinking about it drowns her in shame. She can't hide from the world anymore. She could barely hide what she'd done to Alexei and now, this  _ thing _ , it'll never ever go away.

She follows Maria outside to chop wood because she can't stand being around the thing. Maria, of course, doesn't remark on it, calmly but forcefully driving the ax into the wood. Natasha looks for something to say to assure Maria she's not all gone, that she's still human, that she shouldn't get her head chopped off like Alexei. "I wish I had never had it."

Maria huffs, then splits the next block. She doesn't seem convinced. Natasha will have to do more than that if she ever wants to have some worth as a human again. "I don't want anything to do with vampires ever again. With those monsters."

"Good," Maria remarks briefly, letting her ax rain down.

Natasha looks for even more words, something of a frenzy. "I want them all dead. All of them."

Maria nods, angling the next block and handing her the ax. Natasha takes a deep breath and slams it down with all her might, blowing right through the wood and at least an inch into the chopping block. Maria whistles through her teeth, nodding with approval, placing the next piece of wood on the chopping block and collecting the stray parts of the previous one. "You got strength."

"It's the vampire blood," Natasha replies, taking another deep breath before driving the ax through the wood. It feels good. Finally doing something. "It makes me stronger."

Maria nods slowly. "Use it."

* * *

She doesn't cry. This is not something to cry about. This is bare knuckles, quiet resolve, clarity. Not the agreeable kind but still one you cannot ignore. She sits around, staring at the thing, trying to find the faintest hint of humanity in it but coming up short. It's a monster and she never should have had it.

Maria went out into the forest to hunt. Bobbi is downstairs in the lab, testing how the skin of the monster reacts to UV light. The thing itself is lying on the couch table, all bundled up, breathing stupidly through the monster fangs. Natasha stares at it venomously.

She can't live with this thing. It goes against everything. Beyond good and evil, this thing is just - it shouldn't exist. There are limits even to what this wretched world can take and this is beyond them. All of this is on her, so she needs to be the one to fix it.

She takes a pillow. The thing stares at her with its empty eyes. It's not even scared. Maybe it knows. Monsters don't feel things, other than bloodlust. It has the fangs and a tiny resemblance of the claws as well but the dead eyes are the worst. There's nothing behind those eyes. She made this soulless abomination, her own flesh and blood, she brought this upon the world, she needs to deal with it.

She presses the pillow onto the thing's face.

It doesn't struggle, doesn't move, but it never does, only ever to open its mouth and demand more bloody meat. There's barely any resistance. She honestly hopes it fucking dies. There's no place in the world for this thing, they're all better off without it, it doesn't deserve to breathe air like a human when it's nothing more than a parasite and a monster. She presses the pillow down harder. The thing doesn't even react. She feels bile rising up her throat, the ugly truth making her gag, tears streaming down her face. She never wanted this. Any of this. She wanted something  _ human _ , something  _ real _ , something that makes her better, not this monster, this abomination, this disgrace. She never wanted the world to see how fucked up she is, fucked up enough to sleep with a vampire, to take vampire blood, to have the monster baby and believe it's going to be anything else than exactly that, a monster with fangs and claws and dead eyes and an insatiable hunger, it's dead already, dead to her, and maybe then she can wake up from this nightmare and go back to- to a world without vampires, an ugly and painful world but one with hope nonetheless, not this soulsucking dark pit, this endless tunnel, this sinful void-

Something rips her back, fingers digging into the pillow but futilely, and Bobbi pushes her back onto the couch and throws the pillow onto the ground, checking up on the thing- its face is red and it's breathing hard but it doesn't appear perturbed. "Shhh. It's okay."

Natasha feels even more tears stream down her face. Fuck. Did she really think, did she really convince herself that this would fix anything? That she could make any part of this undone? Bobbi takes the thing and sits down next to her. "It's okay. It's okay, Nat."

No, it's not. She just tried to murder her own- this is even lower, even darker. This is how bad, how inhuman she is, how low she has sunk. The thing stares at her without any anger, any curiosity, any accusation, just a blank slate. It's not evil. It's just… there. "No, it's not okay."

Bobbi strokes the top of its head. "It's fine, really. Nothing happened. You're both going to be okay."

She's not going to be okay, and this is not fine. If Bobbi hadn't showed up, she really would have- This is exactly how fucked up she is, how self-hating, how ready to do anything that promises the faintest reprieve. She would have smothered her own child with a pillow because- because what, it's not what she hoped for? As if that's on her child and not on her, she pushed this thing into this world, how can she blame it for anything, really, try to push her own flesh and blood away because she can't face what she's become, can't own up to it, can't accept it. This thing is her and wanting to hurt it for that, annihilate it for that, that's just pathetic and stupid and hypocritical.

"It's okay," Bobbi assures her. "It's going to be okay."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: attempted infanticide, postpartum depression


End file.
